


The Aim Was Song

by TashaVick87



Series: Two of a Kind [1]
Category: Succession (TV 2018)
Genre: Angst, Comedy, Developing Relationship, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/M, Fair amount of smut, and the always much needed gerri x roman banter, but also Light, dark themes, there's pretty much a little bit of everything, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-14 05:02:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 63,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28789938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TashaVick87/pseuds/TashaVick87
Summary: He realizes in that moment that he had never known true helplessness up until that very point. Nothing could have prepared him for the fact that there was a thick slab of steel stopping him from getting to Gerri.His phone rings and he almost drops it in the hurry to answer.‘‘Talk to me, Oliver.’’‘‘Sir, I just wanted to let you know that we have located the source of the reported gunfire.’’He doesn’t want to hear it, but he knows he will, knows that Oliver, for all that he is just his bodyguard, witnesses him pledge fealty in every way possible to Gerri every time she is in his presence. And Roman recognizes sympathy in a voice trying to deliver bad news.
Relationships: Gerri Kellman/Roman "Romulus" Roy
Series: Two of a Kind [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2110701
Comments: 24
Kudos: 31





	The Aim Was Song

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fic that is probably dearest to me, out of all the stories I have ever written, fanfiction or otherwise, mostly because it was written during this horrible pandemic and during a horrible time for me, mentally speaking. So, writing a bit of it every day these past month and change has been - and I am not exaggerating - a healing experience.
> 
> The first Roman x Gerri fic I wrote, Not That Kind of Night, really inspired me to write more for these two.
> 
> This started off as a one-shot of 7k and morphed into something novella/novel adjacent.
> 
> It's hard to section it into chapters, mostly because I feel the flow doesn't quite work like that, so I decided to post in one big chunk, hope you don't mind. I divided it into 8 parts in the text itself, so you can at least feel where maybe one would put an end of a chapter, but really, the story is very fluid.
> 
> It is set in the time period immediately after we leave them in s2, and throughout about three months after that. There are some time jumps back and forth that are marked clearly, so there's no confusion.
> 
> This will be a collection, I will be adding shorter one-shots within this universe, all stories unto themselves (I realized I don't like doing chapter-by-chapter because then the will to keep writing turns into a chore for me. I'd much rather put it all out at once :))
> 
> Hope you enjoy, and please let me know what you think – ngl, I was pretty nervous about posting this.

**PART 1**

_NY, 2 months after Croatia_

‘‘So, are you gonna be in today at all or go straight home?’’

He’s sitting back in his chair looking out at a boiling hot NY morning, an unquenchable desire to rip his tie and shirt off coursing through his veins, shirts off shit. He focuses instead on the connection to the lilt of her voice to keep his mind off it.

‘‘Because I was thinking we could have a late lunch, early dinner, I can book a table at Le Chevalier, maybe get us a little wine drunk? ’’

He somehow manages to convey a leer into the phone, knowing how much that is sure to make her laugh. He is proven correct a mere moment later when she bursts out in a chuckle she has to subdue for the sake of her driver.

‘‘Oh fuck you, dangling alcohol in front of me like that. I have to deal with the fucking Tudors now, I will damn well need a hit of whatever intoxicating substance I can get my hands on, no doubt about that. ’’

He hears her shift in the car, probably taking her jacket off due to the skyrocketing heat.

‘‘I have back to back out-of-office meetings until 3pm, one of them, like I said, with the Pierce clan, but then I should be in and well and truly ready to be not just wine drunk, but whiskey drunk. Hopefully I’ll get to the office after Shiv leaves, I am in no mood for her woke moodiness today. Especially if it comes with a side of Tomlette.’’

If she was ready to get whiskey-drunk that was a sure sign of a bad day.

Still, he can almost imagine the grin on her face, the tiny little curve of her upper lip and he’s grateful she’s not in the office because she would rip him several new ones if he even so much as dared glance at her that way during business hours. ‘‘Okay, let me know. I'll make sure to run interference with sis dearest. But shit, if I have to hear another rant about how good ol' dadio now ‘‘needs our support’’ but how we also ‘‘need to think of the optics’’ I am gonna blow my fucking brains out.’’

He hears her sigh, knowing she is in agreement with what he said but also fully aware of the lecture that is forthcoming.

‘‘Just be careful, Rome. You tend to run hot when interacting with her and the last thing we need is your sibling fuckery chipping away at what we've been trying so hard to build back up. ‘‘

Sometimes he thinks she never sounds sexier than when doling out lessons in propriety. Or when she calls him Rome. He has to stop himself there because if he continues he knows he won’t get any work done.

‘‘Yeah, yeah, I know, keep the resurging phoenix that is Waystar Royco on its steady course.’’

‘‘Good boy.’’

He takes a deep breath, briefly palming himself through the fabric of his pants at hearing those two simple words. Turns out insults and praise both work on him when she’s concerned. He takes a moment to wait for the blood to come rushing back to his face before he has to re-enter the fray of COO day-to-day drudgery.

* * *

The time period after Kendall's press conference was such a whirlwind of activity that Roman felt like he hadn't slept a wink, which of course, though not true, still left behind a fatigue that settled deep in his bones and made a hefty meal of his marrow.

They had alighted from that yacht into a shitfest of epic proportion and never had Romulus felt like he understood his namesake more. There was nothing in that moment he would have liked to have done more than stab his big bro right in the fucking heart, watch him bleed out.

When Gerri confronted him about his anger she read right through the front of protective son.

‘‘ I know you, Rome. This is about Kendall not involving you. Because there is nothing you would have loved more than to take down Logan yourself. Despite how much you yearn for his approval.’’

And, as usual, she was right. It had been plaguing him for days after the announcement of the leaked papers, how he would have been so glad to blindside Logan. Payback for everything ever gone wrong in the Roy family.

And now he is stuck putting back together this fucking haunted house of cards. Gerri is, as usual, the greatest of allies, and he realizes over and over, on a daily basis, just how fucked he would be without her.

Settling their affairs before entering the storm of rumors and accusations, they left Croatia for battle, almost never apart.

* * *

They’re in the executive break room getting coffee, Shiv droning on and on about how the plans she had for PR management were not given the green light by Karolina, and while Roman is contemplating if he would rather stick a letter opener in his own eye or Tom’s, the alarm sounds.

The new security system kicks into gear and thick metal shutters start descending, closing the three of them off, away from the rest of the floor.

Roman knows this is what’s currently happening to all the rooms on the two executive floors, since the security report from the previous incident reported lagging performance in safety.

This way, unless there was a fire or explosion of an incendiary device, the shutters would come down and most anyone was secure at any point in time, no matter their location.

‘‘Yo, Oliver, do we know what’s happening?’’

He is on the phone to his security detail, anxiously turning over his pyramid shaped key chain in his hand, tries to remember where he got it from, a technique Gerri taught him about diverting his thoughts away from panic. Somehow all he manages is to visualize her eyes in the shades of the light reflecting off the blue-ish tint. He smiles, realizing the technique works, if in a roundabout way.

‘‘There was a report of gunfire but we haven’t been able to locate the source. Will keep you updated as we know more.’’

‘‘Okay.’’

Roman sees Shiv trying to not hyperventilate, with Tom quaking pitifully in his tidy-whiteys by her side.

‘‘Well, at least Gerri’s not here. She would have whoever’s doing this by the balls and I don’t think I would be able to get her off murder charges.’’

He settles back into a chair, one eye on Twitter, wondering how long before something starts up on the socials, but Shiv’s voice yanks him from his thoughts.

‘‘I thought you said Gerri isn’t here?’’

Roman snaps his head up.

‘‘What do you mean?’’

She points to one of the screens in the corner of the room tuned into ATN, and there he sees it. The front of the building and Gerri coming inside, flanked by her assistant.

Shiv is on her phone, getting details from the news desk in seconds.

* * *

‘‘Okay, so this was about fifteen minutes ago, they say. They were covering the protest. It went live but they did a piece again in a few minutes, too, because one of the protesters got injured, and we needed to spin it to our favor by getting different angles ASAP. She was definitely in the building when this whole thing started.’’

He almost automatically dials Gerri’s phone but gets sent to voice mail.

* * *

He realizes in that moment that he had never known true helplessness up until that very point. Nothing could have prepared him for the fact that there was a thick slab of steel stopping him from getting to Gerri.

His phone rings and he almost drops it in the hurry to answer.

‘‘Talk to me, Oliver.’’

‘‘Sir, I just wanted to let you know that we have located the source of the reported gunfire.’’

He doesn’t want to hear it, but he knows he will, knows that Oliver, for all that he is just his bodyguard, witnesses Roman pledge fealty in every way possible to Gerri every time she is in his presence. And Roman recognizes sympathy in a voice trying to deliver bad news.

‘‘There is a man with a gun inside Ms Kellman’s office. Her assistant was thrown out right before he fired the warning shot into the air and the shutters descended.’’

* * *

The meeting with Nan goes south, just as she’d foreseen, but Gerri doesn’t feel too bad about it. She ploughed the mine field for what it was worth and now she can at least check the spiteful battle axe from her to-do list, thankful she didn’t get herself blown up. The problems Logan left behind were getting increasingly more annoying to clean up.

She looks out at the passing scenery, sees the day for what it is, a dog-eat-dog NY sucker of scorcher. She thinks maybe in the evening she could take a walk, her muscles would thank her, after being cooped up in offices and cars all day.

And then, as per usual, her thoughts drift to Roman. To the dream ticket they are, building up to be. She can’t stop herself from feeling her chest clench. She shakes her head minutely, the ghost of a smile appearing.

Post Croatia Gerri and Roman are a force to be reckoned with, and she certainly isn’t going to deny herself the simplicity of the joy she feels at the fact that in a few minutes she will be seeing him again, even though it was mere hours prior that they last saw each other.

* * *

It isn’t until she rounds the corner into her office that she notices the man. He slides in to her left, matching her pace, her elbow in his meaty fist before she has the good mind to say or do anything. Then, the terror-inducing feel of what she knows is a large caliber weapon being pushed into her ribs.

She turns slightly to her right, reaching out to calm Liz, her assistant, who had been by her side, squeezing the girl’s hand briefly as she cowers more into Gerri, fear making her shake like a leaf.

She looks around, realizing the weekend had emptied the offices of most of the employees. She isn’t likely to get help from anyone but her own wits. No news there.

‘‘Whatever this is, I’m sure we can deal with it, just the two of us.’’

He turns, and now she sees his face fully, the broad forehead, tiny wide-set gray eyes, a deep scar below his left cheek, red, bulbous nose like he’d been on a two week bender. Her mind quickly goes through her databank of faces, but comes up empty. But the inkling of familiarity is there, overshadowed by terror being inflicted

‘‘Oh, I am more than sure we can do this on our own.’’

Which is when he roughly wrenches Liz away from her arms and onto the floor in front of the office, apparently deliberately firing off a shot.

Gerri almost clamps her hands onto her ears at the loudness of the alarm and the steel barriers coming down, but she manages to keep still.

She can feel anger percolating just beneath the surface of her skin, a trail of goosebumps rising in its wake. One final glimpse of Liz before the metal comes all the way down confirms she is okay, and Gerri immediately feels a little lighter.

* * *

‘‘Roman! Roman, stop it!!!’’

He feels Shiv more than he hears her, ears as plugged up with anxiety as if he were drowning, her and Tom on him, pulling him away from the doors he had thrown a chair at, stopping him from throwing another.

‘‘Roman you know they’re automated, they only open after we are given the all clear. They won’t unlock them until the police say it’s okay. ‘‘

It’s tight and loose at the same time, the feeling he gets when he tries to inhale, vision blurring and warping simultaneously and he feels his body give way, sliding down the cold metal.

‘‘Roman, the police must have it handled, she’ll be fine.’’

There is nothing he wants more than to slam his fist into Tom’s stupid face, but he can’t think straight, can’t feel anything but the absolute horror gripping his rib cage and the numbness seeping into his limbs.

Shiv sits down next to him and places a tentative palm on his forearm.

‘‘Listen to me, Ro. She’s Gerri Kellman. She has been through more than her fair share of shit. She will be just fine, but I need you not to lose it now, for all our sakes, can you do that?’’

* * *

_Croatia, on the yacht_

COO. Solo. Gerri fights to keep a big shit-eating grin from her face and the urge to direct it straight at Shiv, whose sour expression gives Gerri so much joy she could burst into a fit of giggles twenty years overdue.

Instead, as always, she remains silent, only giving in to the ever-present desire to look at Roman, feels him look back, a ghost of a glance they share speaking sheer volumes.

They live to fight another day.

* * *

Well, not all of them do. Logan is yelling so loud she thinks the inhabitants of the nearby island of Korčula are going to be turning in their beds all night if he keeps his current rant going.

The vicious side of her hopes he’ll keel over before they reach shore, knows it’s a ridiculous, inhumane thought. But then again, what is Logan Roy if not inhumanity incarnate?

By dusk everyone is subdued at best and she isolates herself on the top deck trying to get her thoughts in order. She feels rather than sees Roman sidle up to her about fifteen minutes in and she twists her bracelet round her wrist, trying to focus all the nervous energy permeating her body into that one piece of precious metal, making a vividly conscious effort to stop her mind from replaying every single stressful moment that happened in the past few weeks, from the bloodbath Roman saved her from to the feeling of impotence that sliced through her when she learned of his kidnapping.

‘‘Is he still at it?’’

He looks out into the horizon and shakes his head as if trying to dispel the plethora of Roman-esque thoughts irrelevant to the moment she knows swarm in there on a daily basis.

‘‘Shiv got him to calm down, for the time being. His lawyer bitches are being summoned, half of the team to meet us when we dock and the rest preparing on home turf, getting ready to bend over for the high courts.’’

They fall silent then, Gerri trying to let herself enjoy the sea view, knowing that this would be the last holiday she is likely to get in a long while and that it is now abruptly coming to an end.

‘‘You’re the name on the piece of paper, Ger.’’

She nods, her stare just a touch vacant, neither of them particularly wanting to go into details of Kendall’s latest coup d’etat. There will be plenty of opportunity for that later.

‘‘Yes, I am so proud to get the job based solely on the luck of the draw.’’, she says, disdain and sarcasm dripping from the words.

He sniggers mirthlessly and she can feel his eyes boring into the side of her face, almost imploring her to look his way.

‘‘Welcome to the world of Logan Roy, Ms Kellman, I believe you know that’s how he deals with things. Take a seat, it’ll be a funky ride. But then again, you and I both know that luck of the draw or not, you are the best person for the job.’’

She seems to mull over his words, deciding to simply take the compliment at face value. It’s with him and him alone that she seems to be able to do that lately.

‘‘Thank you. Although…’’, she pauses, giving herself a moment to mull over her new position of power, finally turning to fixate him with her eyes. ‘‘It _is_ what we envisioned. Perhaps it’s not exactly how or when we would have gone about it, but…’’

His face dissolves into a genuine smile. The no bullshit Romulus Roy serene happiness, so rare and genuine, she wishes she could show him just how it warmed her.

She positions her hands on the railing, grounding herself, as much as one can do that out at sea. She’s pretty sure she has a mean poker face and that Roman was far from clueing in, but she remains carved in stone nonetheless. Until she feels him drape his linen blazer over her shoulders.

Her hands come up to grab the ends and hold the material firm. It smells like him, like Acqua di Parma and tangerines, youth and playful sin meshed effortlessly together, and she thinks she would pick that fragrance over the sea any day of the week.

‘‘It’s getting colder, and I really want us to stay here a while. The comfort zone is just you and me at this point, and it feels more relaxing than either of us give it credit for, Molewoman.’’

She smiles at seeing his eyes crinkle slightly at the edges, his almost-forty boyish charm putting in yet another appearance.

Never in a million years would she have ever imagined that Roman Roy would be the man to undo her. Because even if she can’t explain it, it had happened. He had become the person she trusts the most, a kicked puppy seeking refuge with the one other person who knows just what that kick feels like.

She had seen the vicious bite he held, her slime runt, and she put her faith in him. The payoff was unexpected but sorely welcome.

She finds his eyes, always the bedroom eyes of a pretend fuckboy, at least when trained on her. A deep, posturing stare, yet so easy to read, his feelings almost served up on a platter for her to feast on. She licks her lips, takes a greedy inhale of the night air.

‘‘So, my little savior prince…there’s something we have to finalize, I believe, before we dock.’’

He raises an eyebrow at her in question, a request for confirmation. And when she only nods softly, he takes a deep breath of relief and settles back in one of the numerous loungers, the possibility of prying eyes too high to chance doing anything else he might rather do.

* * *

_NY, 2 months after Croatia_

He calls Oliver three more times but the call drops after the first ring every time.

‘‘My guess is the police are talking to all of them as they assess the situation.’’, Shiv says, nervously running her hands through her hair.

‘‘Do you think this will be over soon? I have that doctor’s appointment in two hours, Dr. Bergen was a bitch to get a slot with, you know what all this tension lately is doing to my back.’’

Before Shiv can do or say anything, Roman gets up off the floor and saunters, seemingly aloof, towards a very unsuspecting Tom.

His fist flies out so quickly he isn’t even able to register the decision before his knuckles make contact with the weakest chin he ever had the misfortune of punching.

Tom reels back and Roman imagines the whiplash effect hit him pretty good, given the angle, feeds off that minute pleasure for a second. But then, as if this whole situation gave him an energy boost, he remembers that he may not as useless in the situation as he previously thought.

* * *

‘‘You cannot be serious.’’

‘‘Like the plague’’, he says, as he orders Tom to help with moving the huge oak desk aside and away from the back wall.

‘‘And I need you to come with.’’, he finishes.

Back when Logan had been furnishing the offices, the rooms all stripped of carpeting and any sign of furniture or life, nothing but bare walls and exposed concrete, little Shiv and Roman would play hide and seek, each new hiding place bringing with it the joy of ousting the other. Until, that is, Shiv suggested they explored the ventilation tunnels.

They would camp out in the master office, Logan’s domain and start from there.

She was a whiz at spatial orientation even then, Roman remembers, but he was the one with better memory. It would take both of them to navigate the other if they were going to get to Gerri.

‘‘It’s a Saturday, there are fewer people in the building, we sorta know the layout plus most of the offices are empty - it’ll be a fucking piece of cake, Shiv. You need another pair of hands for the metal locks on the grids, and I need your common sense to keep me from spiraling. If I go alone, and if I’m too loud, the dipshit might panic and-’’

He realizes he is slowly going psychotic, also doesn’t fail to realize that he has zero plan as to what he will do when they reach Gerri, but he persists.

‘‘Shiv, please.’’

She looks at him with something like dawning recognition on her pale face, shakes her head, resigned.

‘‘Alright. But just like when we were kids, you’re going to have to listen to what I’m telling you. We got caught that one time because you couldn’t follow simple instructions.’’

Roman nods, gravely, and Shiv thinks that she’d never seen him as scared or as courageous as he is being right now. Quite a dichotomy to witness in her previously anything but easily perturbed brother.

* * *

Gerri focuses intently on keeping her fear at bay, which is proving easier than she thought, tempered as it is with pure fury.

He is sitting in her chair now, and she can’t help but recall who used to sit there before and how it looks like the man himself is back. Logan and this person sitting in front of her seemed to have a very similar, brutish way of dealing with their issues.

Because, the thing is, she doesn’t doubt for one minute that there is a solid reason she is likely to be used for shooting practice. The ill ways of the Roy family had tentacles far-reaching and multitudinous, a merciless corporate kraken.

She always tried to be on top of all of such issues at one point or another, but a woman in a man’s world, especially if that man is Logan Roy? Well, she was hardly Captain Marvel.

‘‘Is there an itinerary to this situation, or are you playing it by ear?’’

She knows she is likely to anger him further but she can’t find it in her to care. The metal frames and barriers are keeping everyone else safe and that’s all that matters.

The first thought that came to mind as she had been manhandled into the office was that Shiv had most probably delayed Roman during their meeting with another one of her pointless rants and she made a mental note to send her goddaughter flowers for the fact that Roman wasn’t there when she arrived. If by the end of this she still had a pulse, that is.

‘‘Well, Killer Kellman, you really wanna get right down to it, huh?’’

She swallows back a smart-ass retort and instead leans back in the chair in front of him, legs crossed, looking for all the world like nothing was amiss.

‘‘I know there seems to be something you want or need that you believe only I am able to give you. So I would like to get on with it and see what can be done, if anything.’’

She thinks that maybe, if she treats this as a meeting where she has to wheedle funds out of unsuspecting investors, she might tamp down the urge she is getting to bounce off the walls.

He smirks, in a way that makes her want to claw his eyes out, but she remains unmoving, calm and laser focused.

‘‘Do you maybe want to start by introducing yourself? I am not particular, I just need a name, doesn’t have to be yours. I just need something to call you. Balance the scales a bit, you know, seeing how you not only know my name but have seen fit to give me a lovely nickname as well.’’

He looks down, momentarily taken aback by the question.

‘‘Peter.’’

His voice seems muted now, pressed further into his chest cavity, like tears were clogging his throat and he has to fight to push them back. He reaches for something in his pocket and on instinct, Gerri closes in on herself, wrapping her arms around her torso.

When it lands in front of her, the photograph is a surprise. Not because of the fact it appears that her captor wants to spend this time going through his family album, but because the face of the young man staring up at her is achingly familiar.

* * *

‘‘Okay, so…we need a battle plan. Tom, clear that table, Ro, get me the box of napkins.’’

She is in strategy mode and Roman willingly obeys her, perhaps for the first time ever.

He watches her lay out the white squares and reaches for a pen.

‘‘Right, if I remember correctly, like you just said, we need to go up once we’ve unscrewed the first vent shaft thingy here. That means you have to go first and deal with the latches and hinges that follow.’’

‘‘Got it.’’, he nods fervently, already easily recalling what the grid actually looks like, the images becoming more vivid as she puts them on paper.

‘‘Then, I don’tdon’t remember exactly what the layout turns to, it’ll come to me more clearly when we yank ourselves upwards, but the one thing I do know is that we have to be quiet and the only thing we have to unscrew these fuckers is a pen, so you better put those tiny hands of yours to good use and get dexterous about it.’’

He nods, reaching out for the box of pens laid out next to the boxes of printing papers, decides to take three, just in case.

‘‘So look’’, Shiv continues, ‘‘ It’s like levels in a game – up, left – empty office – left – empty office – left – the lounge – left - Gerri’s office.’’

He decides to focus on the fact that this is the first time she called it Gerri’s office and not _dad’s office_ later, when his gut has had time to stop roiling about and after they hopefully get Gerri out.

‘‘So, what is your genius plan for when we get there?’’

He feels like he could burst into angry, uncontrolled sobs any time now, but he hears Tom speak up for the first time since he smacked him and Roman is royally thankful he has at least a few more minutes to think.

‘‘Um, Shiv…what do you mean what his plan is?’’

Roman turns to Shiv, completely baffled by Tom’s question, and in a single nanosecond it hits him, the glance she throws in the direction of her purse all the answer he needs.

‘‘Mabel?! And you forgot to let me in on that fucking detail when this whole thing started???’’

Shiv shrugs and hurriedly walks over to her Birkin bag, extracting her trusty old hand gun, Mabel, a mother-of-pearl handled creation designed especially for her when she was eighteen.

‘‘I only just started carrying again. The whole dad situation made me paranoid.’’

Roman smirks joylessly.

‘‘Yeah, you got that right. Okay, hand her over. I’m assuming it’s loaded?’’

Shiv’s eyes bug out so hard for a second he thinks how her face may have been inspiration for one of the Animaniacs.

‘‘Um, no way, if anyone is using this gun it’s me, now get your scrawny ass in there.’’

He takes what he can get, and then they both turn to Tom.

‘‘Tom, have your phone at the ready to text us if anything happens. Rome, put yours on silent.’’

And just like that, he’s unscrewed the first vent grill and is squatting down, thankful for his slender physique, allowing him to maneuver all the entrances and exits more easily, Shiv trailing behind him at a steady pace. They have some trouble in the beginning, with getting up the one floor to get to the string of offices they need, but once they hoist themselves up, Shiv on his shoulders, jimmying the first set of barriers easily, the whole thing becomes simpler.

‘‘Okay, as far as being quiet goes, we’re good until we actually reach Gerri’s office.’’

He sits down, wiping sweat off his forehead and cobwebs off his sleeve.

‘‘Yeah, I know.’’

‘‘Roman.’’, she utters his name in that warning mode that so very often reminded him of Caroline he thinks he is gonna gag.

‘‘Don’t play the hero at first call, we need to assess and deliberate before we do anything.’’

‘‘Don’t you fucking think I know that? That if I screw up, Gerri could fucking die?’’

Saying it made it worse and he fights for breath and Shiv uncharacteristically cups his cheek.

‘‘I know she damn well taught you all you know, so take a page out of her book. Be Gerri’s soldier right now, you always were, so time to step up even further today. Calm and collected, remember?’’

* * *

_Croatia_

The morning after his talk with Gerri, Roman is told by the crew that they will arrive at their destination in twelve hours and he gives himself two of those twelve to get things started. The captain is on board (literally and figuratively), sworn to secrecy by a Roman Roy check with enough zeros to get the man to retire on the spot.

He follows that up by changing into white linen trousers and a beige shirt, going for the casual yet official look he knows Gerri will appreciate. A spritz of cologne and a dab of hair gel later, he is at her door, his distinct knock telling her it’s okay to let the visitor in.

When she answers, he slides right in, cannot afford to have anyone see him enter, but as soon as she shuts the door behind him, he can do nothing but stare. Because yes, this is Gerri, but this is also the first time he’s seen her since she agreed to what they’re about to do. Agreed to be his partner in everything under the sun. And she looks radiant beyond what the scope of one Roman Roy’s vocabulary can manage to elaborate.

Her hair is down and she is still wearing contacts. He realizes only then just how much he had always been enraptured by her eyes, the sapphire-ceruleans sometimes calm as the Adriatic they were currently sailing, sometimes Shakespeare’s Tempest wild. She’s wearing a cream silk tunic, loose around the collarbones, tight around the waist, flaring downwards and merging seamlessly with the light denim jeans. He tries to get his hard-on to calm down and let him breathe, and she smirks.

‘‘None of that now, Roman. There’s business to attend to.’’

He smirks but relents, realizing she is, as per usual – correct.

‘‘You scrub up nice Ger.’’

‘‘Well, you don’t look half bad yourself. Now, tell me, what’s the plan?’’

He leans into her, lowering his voice, nominally because even walls have ears, but really just so he could merge his entire fucking aura with hers, have her own him, devour him and change him. For the better, always for the better.

* * *

The ceremony itself lasts no longer than three minutes, the captain recognizing the need for expediency. Gerri feels a bit breathless, images of her wedding to Baird coming back in torrents, the dress, ‘blushing’ bride moment, all the while knowing she was already pregnant with her first daughter and that the marriage, though not that unplanned, had to be moved up.

The parallel to her current nuptials is non-existent, but she does see how the rushed factor of her marriage to Roman does play well into what her life has been ever since she was so very young. She vows in that moment to have her and Roman’s life, going forward, slow down if only just a bit.

‘‘Do you have the rings?’’

Gerri is sort of taken aback by the captain’s question, already poised to answer in the negative, but then she sees Roman reach into his pocket, removing a velvet sachet, two gold and platinum wedding bands rolling onto the palm of his hand.

‘‘Be prepared, boy scouts’ creed and all that.’’

‘‘Roman Roy, in the boy scouts? Now why do I find that hard to believe?’’

She smirks at him, then sends a full on smile his way, almost in wonder, as he slides the ring onto her finger and hands her its counterpart. The feel of his warm hand in hers is surreal to the point of tears and she doesn’t completely understand them. She swallows the emotion down, focusing on the rest of the formalities.

It’s when she sees him sign his name on the official wedding papers that a bolt of true yearning hits her core and her chest clenches, hard, as does her hand in his.

_Romulus Kellman._

* * *

They walk back to his room in silence, both glancing about, prepared to duck and cover if Frank, Carl or god forbid Shiv or Logan happen to cross their path.

As he closes the door behind them, he hears her let out a huge breath, falling back onto the bed.

‘‘Gerri…I…’’

He feels even more than usually inadequate. The smell of her overwhelming and the sight of her all-encompassing and ruling his body much as it always does, he turns, ready to slip into the bathroom to alleviate some of the tension. No need showing her he’s that much of a pervert, he thinks. The technicality of this being their wedding day is just that, he shouldn’t expect anything and he knows it.

‘‘Where do you think you’re going?’’

He looks back at her and, and though he isn’t quite sure his eyes aren’t deceiving him, he thinks (and hopes fervently) that her pupils are as black as his. His heartbeat picks up.

‘‘I…I was just…’’

This is what he just signed up for. Life with this brilliant woman who takes him down with a single sentence, who makes him think on his feet, makes his fucking heart race, his palm itch to be touching her constantly even though he hasn’t properly touched her once, yet. He fucking loves it. Loves _her,_ but is too cowardly to believe she would ever reciprocate.

But, she already does, he hears a certain voice in his head say. She does. She is as committed as he is otherwise she wouldn’t be there in front of him now, slowly getting up from his bed, eyes never wavering, chest heaving with what he can only hope is anticipation, one hand out reaching for him.

On autopilot, he takes it and slides his grasp to her wrist, the thudding of her erratic pulse, the tell-tale heart.

She can feel every atom of her entire being vibrating at a frequency she’d never experienced before, and when he takes her hand she swallows past a tight throat.

She becomes acutely aware of the brand new piece of jewelry on her left hand, the surreal quality of the moment, the charged atmosphere of the room making her dizzy.

His breathing is heavy now, blood rushing south at a disparaging pace. When she slides her arms around his waist, the little courage he has left spurs him into action as he seals his mouth over hers.

No one else, not Tabitha not Grace not any other person in his fucking miserable life have ever made him, will _ever_ make him feel as fucking ecstatic as Gerri does, her lips pliant and warm, peach-flavored lip-gloss coating his taste buds as he probes further in, being given permission immediately after he traces the tip of his tongue across her equally tentative one.

They each give as good as they get, and soon he is sliding open-mouthed kisses across her neck, sucking, biting, drawing moans out of her he had only imagined, only ever dreamed of. Her hands brush through his hair, pulling his head back ever so lightly, as she places gentle, butterfly kisses against the column of his throat, him trying not to pass out on the spot.

Somehow, they reach the bed and she is on top of him, sliding her warm palms under his shirt, him almost at the point of begging her to rip the buttons off. Instead she chooses to undo them one by one, and he takes them both by surprise by flipping them, his fingers already undoing the button and zipper of her jeans, swiftly working them down, along with her panties, immediately situating a persistent thigh between her legs.

‘‘Oh fuck… Rome…’’

She is glorious like this and he knows he could come just by watching her be undone by the pressure on her clit, her back arching in search for more friction, spreading her legs further for him, but he knows she deserves so much more and so he bends down, kissing a trail from her throat, down to her chest, any and all insecurities he ever had about sex evaporating forever. 

He pauses while she slips out of her top, arms winding round his neck. Tongue heavy and wanting in his mouth, he laps at every inch of her he can reach, the tang of her sweat as powerful as any aphrodisiac known to man.

As he reaches the valley of her breasts, he cups them reverently and the heat of her seeps through the white lace onto his palms. He is thankful that the bra clasp is in the front as he quickly does away with another barrier separating them. His hands worship and own and love and plead and he can’t think straight but she is there, guiding him and soon her breast is in his mouth and it’s like manna, a heavenly delight, a yearning he will never be able to quench.

As he laves his tongue diligently against her heated skin, she gasps and arches, her breath stuttering in her throat, trying to get more pressure where she needs it most, and his hand descends, finally reaching its destination.

* * *

She feels him everywhere, lips across her chest, tongue possessive over sensitive nipples, body firmly wedged in between her legs, the pressure of his thigh against the liquid pooling there at a wondrous rate and now his fingers, pressing down where she needs contact the most, swirling and dipping, cresting her pleasure back and forth until she arches so much she's not sure how she is physically capable of it.

She can't stop the moans spilling out of her, and only manages enough will power to reach up and tear the shirt off his torso, eager hands gripping him closer to her body, finally skin to heated skin.

‘‘Roman...please...’’

She feels almost angry at herself for begging, but realizes she is past the point of caring, the need to have him inside her is too loud to ignore. She feels him reluctantly prop himself further away from her body, only to see him slide his trousers and underwear off in a swift motion before he rejoins her on the bed.

She immediately takes the opportunity at his attention being elsewhere for that one nanosecond to grasp his cock, finally, sliding her palm up and down, the feeling of steel encased in fucking silk so intoxicating she feels her core throb in anticipation.

He is much larger than she'd imagined, from what little she noticed when he is dressed, so she spends a moment or two indulging, observing, her tongue wetting her lips almost subconsciously at the sight of him standing at attention, shaft ramrod straight, head purpling with tension, desire for her. She smears a pearl of precum at the tip with her thumb.

‘‘Fucking fuck Jesus, Gerri!’’

She lets herself smile at the breathlessness in his voice, his eyes shut firmly against the onslaught of pleasure, his hair falling across his forehead. She swipes her free hand through the strands and he leans into her, pushes into her hand.

He opens his eyes then, pupils dilated, latching onto hers and she feels like she is drowning.

He growls, swats her hands away, flipping them over so she is on top again.

She decides to tease as much as possible, crawling over him slowly, her hair draping across his face, lips dancing at the corners of his mouth. She lets her nose brush his gently, and allows a genuine happy smile to take possession of her face, the joy spreading onto his immediately. She opens her mouth to him then, lets him devour her.

But then her hands are on him again, the tip of his cock positioned just so, brushing her clit, and she closes her eyes at the onslaught of sensation, her body opening up to him almost as if it did so hundreds of times, like it was a dance they perfected before either of them were even born. Her palms press down against his chest and she feels his hands grasp her hips, probably strong enough to bruise. She can’t remember a time she had been happier, feels tears pool in her eyes.

He surges upwards, lips on her neck, arms cradling gently.

‘‘You’re so fucking beautiful.’’

She swallows a heavy sob, but feels the tears sliding down the sides of her face despite her best efforts to hold them back. He sees them too, then, concern marring the pleasure on his boyish features, but she shakes her head, smiling.

He moves in earnest then, a swift but gentle lull of his hips and she throws her head back in ecstasy, the first increments of the peak of her pleasure hitting her like a riptide.

She takes a few deep breaths as they find their rhythm, the pleasure ebbing and flowing, inhales and exhales fitting one another like the most perfect of puzzles.

‘‘I love you, Rome’’, she manages between gasps, surprising both of them and feels her words spur him on, his teeth sinking into the soft flesh of her neck. She knows she’ll have to hide the aftereffects but is also aware that she couldn’t care less.

He finds that final momentum just as she realizes she is on the brink of her own horizon, and she swears she can feel his heartbeat through their connection, swallows against a fresh wave of emotion.

‘‘Mine….mine… mine…’’, his chant is as rhythmic as he rocks into her more forcefully now, and she knows she can’t take it much further, going off the deep end, him joining her mere seconds later.

They take deep breaths, him on top of her, head resting comfortably against her breast, lips grazing her flushed skin, her fingers carding through his hair.

* * *

She is reluctant to let him get up, and he isn’t making any move to do so, so they lay there for a while. She takes the feel of his body in, safe in the cradle of her spent thighs, presses herself ever closer, closer than ever to anyone, closer to his sated skin, to the salt drying on their bodies.

He is shivering slightly, lips mouthing a silent prayer against the slope of her neck. She is surprised to hear him speak then, a thick layer of emotion enveloping each syllable.

‘‘No one will ever hurt you, Gerri. I won’t let them.’’

This explosion of feeling, a life changing decision made in the span of mere hours rounded up with such a simple, powerful, truthful statement.

She tilts his chin up, making him face her.

‘‘I know. I’m sorry it took for a near disaster for me to realize a few things.’’

She tries not to think of his kidnapping, and how sleepless nights are eons heavier when seasoned with dread for a loved one’s life.

‘‘We’re here now.’’, he says, closes his tired eyes, and she lets him push himself further into her, slender arms now completely encircling her, palms grabbing handfuls of her flesh, wherever he can reach.

‘‘Yes. We are. Go to sleep now, we have a few hours before we have to go down.’’

He nods, drifting off within a few minutes, and she lets the sound of his breaths soothe all the anxiety that the entire trip brought on. There is something to be said for an independent woman who chooses to give away some of that independence to the right person. Revelatory doesn’t even begin to describe it.

She smiles into the crown of his head, kisses it softly, and lets herself give in to the fatigue. They both sleep peacefully for the first time after a long while.

* * *

_NY, 2 months after Croatia_

Gerri remains silent and solemn-faced. She remembers the young man. Her previous assistant, a 25 year old econ major.

‘‘All my son ever fucking wanted was to work at Waystar Royco. When he said he got a job working for the General Counsel of Logan Roy himself that was the proudest he’d ever been of himself.’’

She recalls the feeling she had when she realized just how much Daniel valued his job. He reminded her of Julia, her younger daughter, his smile open and sometimes almost mischievous, but always eager to help and learn.

However, as it tends to happen, dreams are not built to last at Waystar, at least not of those Logan Roy deemed mere drones.

Daniel’s firing was legendary in the offices of Royco and made all other assistants fear Logan even more, the cautionary tale of him firing a man for accidentally spilling three drops of coffee over him cause for even greater fear of the big bad wolf.

And when word came that Daniel had committed suicide that night, Logan’s dismissal the final straw in the life of a man with severe depression and anxiety… Gerri remembers, all too vividly, the two empty bottles of wine and half a bottle of gin as she woke up the following morning. Called in sick for the first time in years.

And later, when another suicide happened on the company’s premises, well, it simply reminded Gerri just how cruel the world of Logan Roy can be. And how cowardly they all were to hang back and just take it, including her.

‘‘And you did nothing, just stood by, let him fire an innocent boy, being the straw that broke the camel’s back.’’, Peter says, turning the gun over in his hand.

Suddenly the prospect of negotiating herself out of the situation is a non-existent one. Because she knows then, that the man seated in front of her is so unlike Logan they are polar opposites. Desperation and love for his son was what brought him there and the desire to take a life for a life is the only thing that will sate it.

The images of her daughters’ and Roman’s faces flash around the edges of her vision as she shuts her eyes to stop the tears, failing.

* * *

They get to their destination without a lot of fuss, Shiv only getting annoyed once about the filth and how the heat is messing up her hairdo, so Roman himself can’t complain much. She is clinging to his pant leg with one hand to navigate in the dark, the gun in her other one, him realizing his palms are getting sweatier by the minute.

She pulls on the material a tad stronger and he stops, turning to face her, a question in his arched eye brow. He sees her type something on her phone and a text arrives to his.

_‘‘The next turn and we’re there, we should switch now so we make less noise.’’_

He nods at this, reluctant, but knowing she won’t let him go first and won’t relinquish the gun.

Just as they reach the final grill that will let them in Gerri’s office, she peeks through the uneven edges of the wood panel covering it, only to see Gerri seated primly in front of her own desk, a mountain of a man in front of her, his huge hand gripping what she immediately knows is a 9mm Sig Sauer P226. Even from a distance the size of that thing was damning. She turns to Roman and reluctantly instructs him to look, too, because she knows he needs to be prepared.

He feels himself go rigid, commands his body to stay still, because all it really wants to do is punch through the final piece of wood and metal separating him from his wife and put a fucking bullet in the head of the man who took her hostage.

Shiv motions for the pen in his hand and starts slowly undoing the screws holding the grill in place, and along with them, undoing what was left of her brother’s sanity.

* * *

‘‘So, Peter…what now?’’

She can see in his eyes he is surprised she’s not begging. He is sorely mistaken if that’s what he had been hoping for. The biggest allowance she will make are the tears running down the sides of her face. He will assume they are being shed because she fears death when that is the last thing on her mind.

She can’t stop thinking about Roman. Can’t stop thinking about the way his arms feel around her, the way he would always look at her like the fucking sun shone out of her rear end, the way he kissed her breathless, kissed her like every kiss was their first.

She lifts her hand to grasp at her necklace, trying to find calm in the contact with the metal.

Peter comes closer then, grasping the hilt of the gun more securely in his grip.

* * *

It all happens faster than any of them had anticipated. The manage to unlatch both the metal grill and the wood panel with no fuss, but as he is about to slide out after her, one of the spare pens slips out of his pocket and clinks noisily off and against the metal they put to the side.

Roman sees the fucker lift his gaze, but before he’s had time to react Shiv is on her feet, that fucking pearly white gun pointed at Gerri’s attacker looking like a matchstick compared to the torch he has in his hands.

* * *

She can’t be seeing what she thinks she’s seeing. Roman, sweaty and stained, Shiv in front of him, in equal disarray, wielding a…is that a gun? Well, she thinks inanely to herself, if any of those siblings was to have a gun it would be Shiv. Not even Roman would touch a weapon, and he went to a military academy – mandatory hunting parties notwithstanding.

Once her brain has fast forwarded to the dread encasing her gut, she zeroes in on Roman, now directly in front of Peter. As usual, his eyes are enough to calm her, make her think that maybe, just maybe there’s a way out of this. But then she sees Peter’s unsteady hand, the shaky finger on the trigger of the gun holding a bullet poised to pierce straight through Roman’s heart.

Distraction, she needs a distraction.

She spots the sharp letter opener on the desk and uses the opportunity while Peter is being distracted by Shiv’s frankly very impressive shooting stance, to palm it quietly.

It’s a matter of seconds to slide a step closer and jab the thing into his side.

In the blink of an eye, she realizes she should have gone for the throat, a more instantaneous kill, because just as he is wailing in pain, listing to the side, he still has enough strength to turn and take his last chance to go through with his plan. He sets the sights of his weapon back on Gerri, and she sees him about to press the trigger, waits for the pain.

* * *

Peter’s body lands at her feet, the growing pool of blood blooming beneath his head and Gerri can’t move, the pulsating red of the liquid all she is able to register. Soon though, she hears Roman shouting her name, and she looks at him, sees the fear in his face, the emotion ripping away any and all sanity that was left in her.

She tries so hard to get it together, but as the final atoms of willpower are sucked out of her, she feels Roman reach her, takes her in his arms and carries her to the nearby couch.

* * *

He will build an entire new wing of a hospital and name it after Shiv. If she wants all his money he will give it to her, if she wants him to kill Tom for her, he will gladly do it, because he has never been thankful for any of his siblings more than he is thankful for Shiv in that very moment, when he is finally able to get Gerri in his arms, her head against his neck, terrified, almost shot but blessedly alive.

He doesn’t spare the body on the floor a glance but for the few seconds it takes for Shiv to check his pulse and make sure he is indeed all kinds of dead.

Gerri clings to him, her breath ragged and choppy. From the corner of his eye he sees Shiv calling Tom and Oliver from his phone. He kneels by Gerri’s side.

‘‘Hey, look at me. Ger, look at me. Shiv, get some water! You’re gonna be fine, I’m here, I’m right here, I’m here.’’

He doesn’t know if he’s reassuring himself or her.

Shakily, he cups her cheek and she manages to focus long enough to grasp the front of his shirt, clammy forehead resting against his, his arms possessive, terrified, shielding.

* * *

‘‘You need to talk to the police first before you can go anywhere Roman, and the paramedics are not going to let you go with her anyway, you’re not family.’’

Tom and his whiny ass little voice could not have come at a worse time, Roman was almost annoyed the shutters had lifted. Shiv smacks her husband down with one of her trademark stares. Then she turns to Roman and Gerri, now held in his arms so closely Shiv can’t really see where he ends she begins.

‘‘But…you _are_ her family, aren’t you, Ro?’’, she says, over the buzzing of the police, as she waits to be interviewed.

He looks up at Shiv from where he is seated, holding a sleepy Gerri, drowsier by the minute from all the tranquilizers the company doctor had her on.

Puzzled, he follows Shiv’s gaze to Gerri’s form, now almost soundly asleep in his arms.

Their wedding rings were always on chains around their necks, but his is still securely hidden under his shirt, while in all the commotion, hers must have slipped out of her blouse, joining the tiny spear shaped pendant he gave her as a wedding gift when they arrived back to the States from Croatia, as it was the only type of ‘‘lavished with presents’’ she had sanctioned when he first mentioned it.

Not that it would have mattered to him either way, but he likes knowing he has a sibling he could count on at least a bit. He just never expected it to be Shiv.

**PART 2**

In hindsight, Gerri realized she’d seen the whole thing as a game of Russian roulette. Odds were all over the place, but she knew that ultimately, they weren’t good. She had dodged too many proverbial shots in her lifetime for this live round to be off target, too.

She had never in her life been glad to have been proven wrong.

She twists in the soaking sheets, hoping not to jolt Roman from his restless sleep as she slides out from under his arms. He needed the rest, and she needed air.

Throwing on a silk robe, she slowly finds her way through the darkness making sure to make as less noise as possible, heart thumping a mile a minute, the promise of a cold breeze enough to propel her forward to the terrace.

* * *

The day before, she forced the doctor to release her from hospital after checking her vitals. There was nothing wrong with her, for Christ’s sake! Apart maybe from seeing gray matter and blood splatter on her office carpet every time she so much as closed her eyes, but nobody needed to know that.

She clutches the silk material closer to her chest now, the ice of her sweat now something she can’t quite swipe to the side of her consciousness but not wanting to go back in quite yet, either. She looks out at the city and her hand drifts to the tiny pendant round her neck. She swallows against another batch of tears that really have no reason to be there. She is fine, she is safe, so is Roman and that is all that matters. And she has to get back to work, cannot allow herself to fall apart.

She had placed her wedding ring back on the moment they got back to the penthouse, as did Roman, and she supposes the reason they both did so without even talking to the other meant they needed further physical proof that the other was still there, that they had survived yet another in what appeared to be a series of life-threatening events, even though, for now, the rings would only be worn in private.

Flashes of the news of him being captured in Turkey sear themselves a path through her thoughts, and she manages to quell them just as they are about to merge with the fear she felt at seeing him in front of another gun. He had so much more to live, so many more things to experience, and seeing him there with her in that office, well, inasmuch as it brought about hope it also crushed her.

Shiv was a dark horse, but then again when was she not? The unlikely hero was sworn to secrecy with regards to the marriage, but Gerri knows that despite her heroics at rescuing her from Peter, Shiv was a calculating little urchin, and she’d have to keep a close eye on any and all future communications the three of them are involved in.

* * *

She feels his eyes on her, knows he is up. She intentionally stayed within his possible line of sight because throughout the night he kept such a strong hold of her, petrified to the core she would evaporate in front of his eyes. She didn’t want him to panic if he woke up and saw she wasn’t next to him.

They were both silent when they finished with the hospital, the police, Shiv.

He sensed that the last thing she wanted was to talk, about anything.

But now, she knows the look on his face. It would be the same look she would be giving him if the roles were reversed.

‘‘I am fine, Roman. Everything’s over now.’’

He is up and in front of her so fast she almost has no time to process his movements.

‘‘You deliberately made him turn on you, Gerri! He could have fucking shot you! You could have died!’’

He is pacing, ribcage expanding with feral, almost leonine breaths. She sits down in the corner chair, throws a wrap around her shoulders, feels some of the shock seeping back in, fights it. It lingers, waiting for its shot, but she is stronger, sits up straighter in her seat, implores him to calm down, her gaze calm, measured.

When she sees it’ll be a futile mission to do anything while he is so far away, she almost snaps.

‘‘Roman. Come here.’’

He does, as if tied to her with the Lasso of Truth, except it’s pure devotion tethering him to her, always. He kneels next to her, her index finger tracing his nose slowly, the furrowed brow, the pinched lips, feels them relax under the contact.

‘‘You are the only person that what will ever matter, Gerri.’’

She shakes her head.

‘‘Dependence is not a good look on you, Rockstar. Where’s the mouthy son of a bitch I married, hm?’’, she asks, hoping to elevate the mood, at least a little. Instead she seems to have done the opposite.

‘‘Fuck you, Gerri. You know damn well that’s not the Roman that proposed and as sure as fuck isn’t the Roman you married.’’

She knows what he means.

‘‘Turkey changed a lot for you, didn’t it? Or at least let out some of the forgotten, buried stuff into the light.’’

He looks away for the first time then, and she can see he is trying to keep it together.

‘‘Yes it did. And you. You and that damned place cracked me open like a fucking pomegranate and I’ll be damned if I’ll let anything reverse that. And also, gross, if I am ever this sappy again, please slap the fuck out of me.’’

She snorts, the beginnings of a smile on her lips.

‘‘You’re close to getting smacked right now, you brat!’’

‘‘I knew for a fact,’’ he continues, ’’That when they let me out of that place, that I didn’t want a life without you in it. You saw I came prepared, the rings were bought as soon as I was cleared by Turkish authorities. The plan was to beg you on my knees until you took pity. I would have done it, too, and you know it.’’

She does.

‘‘You said yes, Gerri. And for once, I became the _me_ I wanted to be. Not Bozo the royal fool, grappling forever with fucked up family dynamics, each day a fight to live to see the next one.’’

She is speechless, the back of her hand pressed against her lips.

The shock is coming back at an alarming rate now and she needs to extinguish it, can’t delve further into his words, how this entire conversation means they voiced the fact that she would die for him, and he would die for her and it’s all too much, too early on a sizzling summer morning, too painful for her soul to take.

She grasps the front of his t-shirt, pulls him up into a fierce kiss. He switches their positions, settles her in his lap.

‘‘Please.’’, she breathes out, tearing up, throat clenching. ‘‘Rome, please. Help me forget, for just a moment.’’

She is trembling now, lost, terrified, the wrap falling to the floor as she pulls off her night gown, needing to feel him closer.

His hands and lips are persistent, so very expert and focused when it comes to enticing pleasure out of her. He takes her on the floor of their bedroom and she thinks it’s a good start, this. The words, the conversation is now paused, on the back burner for when she can string a coherent sentence together. For now, her legs open more, inviting him in, her heels digging hard into the backs of his thighs.

As he thrusts into her, swift yet lovingly careful, one hand is caressing the thigh hooked around his leg and the other clenches her left hand gently. She can breathe then, feels the fear burn away under his touch, the terror not as ominous anymore. The only word she can use to describe it – life-affirming.

* * *

_NY, two weeks after arriving from Croatia._

‘‘Gerri, you’re needed in the conference room, Karolina says she wants to go over the summary of the statement Logan’s legal team sent and then review your statement as interim CEO.’’, Liz informs her.

She is at the end of her tether, and feels a migraine building behind the bridge of her nose, pinches it, sliding her glasses further down, in an attempt to ward off the pain for at least a bit.

She hears her door slide open and just as she’s about to call out she’s on her way, she sees Roman slip into the chair in front of her.

‘‘You hanging in there, boss lady?’’

His expression lacks its usual boisterous smugness, his jaunty devil-may-care front tainted by his father’s name being rightfully dragged through the mud and the jail time said father is facing. Gerri can’t say she hadn’t seen the whole thing coming; it was a bomb waiting to go off. The best thing she can do for herself and for Roman is to keep them both well away from the blast radius.

‘‘Just barely. Meetings keep getting added to my roster, and honestly, I have no idea how I’m meant to keep up.’’

Roman nods, bowing his head, the tension in his shoulders making them ride up. As COO, he had his own side of the story, his team on call 24/7 taking care of any and all possible fires, liaisoning with Karolina and her PR magic. Kendall left them a turd of a situation, but with Gerri’s help, they were managing to throw any curve ball sent their way out of the park

Still, as he looks at her now, he feels helpless and tiny and would like nothing more than to curl up with his head on her lap, take them both away from all the noise for at least twenty four hours. He knows the very notion is pure wishful thinking, and that their pace will remain as topsy-turvy for a while longer, but he still indulges in daydreams.

He’s never seen her like this. She has been working round the clock ever since they came back from Croatia two weeks prior. He hasn’t seen her eat a proper meal or even a piece of fruit, but he knows better than to call her out on it. He does however, bribe her assistant into slipping her granola bites and suggesting more than coffee as a beverage on occasion.

This whole getting married malarkey may be new to him, but the feeling of being on edge whenever her health is at stake has never been a novelty. Even in their earliest days his eye would always be on how she was holding up, and this situation isn’t any different.

If anything, his stomach twisted in worry in a million new ways, now that he was privy to the way she sinks into the pillows with a tired sigh, how she falls asleep within mere seconds every night, him only allowing himself the same luxury when he’s counted enough of her calm breaths, and even then sleep evades him easily most of the time.

Club Fed has been knocking on their doors, and he feels like his and Gerri’s life is one big game of dodge ball. Kendall is nowhere to be seen, the documents he says he has in his possession still a mystery to the general public, though through Tom they get the gist of what may hit them very soon. Roman also gets the urge to smack the man every time he opens his big fat mouth but that’s neither here nor there.

Since Gerri’s voting in by the board as interim CEO, Logan has been hauled up in the Summer Palace waiting for whatever comes first, Kendall’s capitulation, again (not likely) or the feds with an arrest warrant(Gerri thinks any day now).

He clears his throat clearing his thoughts along with it and leans his chin against the palms of his hands, turning on the infamous Roman Roy dazzle.

She lifts her head from the papers she is reviewing, glances at the watch on her wrist and only then notices him staring, grins, takes off her glasses.

‘‘Do I have something on my face?’’

He smiles, sincerely, warmly, the way only she can make him smile, and it reflects in her eyes, the tension around them releasing minutely.

He reaches into his jacket pocket retrieving a Cartier jewelry box, places it squarely in front of her.

She looks at it, the infamous Gerri eyebrow arch coming into play.

‘‘I was planning on giving it to you tonight, but um..I don’t know, it looked like you needed something to cheer you up right now. And I know, I know, you said no wedding presents, that we don’t do those things…yet. But, I figure this one is so tiny and it’s the least flashy thing ever and I…I just wanted to get it for you.’’

In reality he had done more than buy it for her; he had contracted the head jewelry designer of Cartier and worked with her on the design. He keeps shtum on that, thinks she would go ballistic if she ever found out that little tidbit.

He watches her shake her head fondly, finally giving in and opening the box.

The accessory is indeed miniscule, especially by Roy standards, but he knows it would get the point across.

‘‘A spear?’’, she asks, her throat closing up. She knows why he picked it, remembers the moment almost in HD, back on the yacht, when they were talking about anything and everything, when she told him about Laura and her childhood fascination with name origins, the pride at her mother’s name literally being ruler with a spear, her equally strong obsession with Lewis Carol causing her to give Gerri the title of ‘‘ _coolest mom ever, always slaying the jabberwocky’’_.

‘‘Subtle, don’t you think? This one’s for all of _my_ monsters you vanquish.’’

‘‘I told you never to call me that.’’, she says, mock warning in her voice, affection easily bleeding through, trying hard not to fall apart, fatigue and the emotions piling up on top of each other.

He blinks innocently at her, a soft smile on his lips. She can tell he’s worried too, about her working herself into the ground.

‘‘The name Geraldine has not once passed my lips since thou hast forbidden it from use, m’lady. But, should you decide to wear it, you will be the actual definition of your name. And since we went about the whole thing in a slightly different timeline than is normally done this can be both your engagement pendant and your wedding gift. You reeeeally should consider this tame. Diamond encrusted dog tags with _’’Property of Gerri Kellman Roy’’_ engraved on them was going to be my matching engagement item, but I figured I’d like to keep my balls right where they are.’’

‘‘Good call, husband. Even though the engraving would have been more than an apt description.’’

His stomach does a sickly sweet summersault at the word, the warmth and what he rightly assumes is joy in the sleepy, tired lilt of her voice.

She turns the pendant to the light, the fine silver chain it is attached to twinkling in the setting sun of a worn out Friday. She hands it to him and he helps her clasp it around her neck, the chain settling perfectly against the longer one with her wedding ring on it, that one hidden underneath the fabric of her clothes.

She smiles as she looks down at her gift. And it’s all the permission he needs to lean over and kiss her, a light, quick peck, the familiarity soothing and somewhat quenching a thirst they were both too tired to do anything about for the past weeks.

She takes a deep breath, a sip of water.

‘‘I just have a few things to deal with, talk to Karolina, and then we can go. Meet me downstairs?’’

A night off seems like just the thing to get them back on track.

* * *

_NY, 2 months after Croatia_

‘‘It doesn’t work like that, Roman. We can’t just put it out there like that, we have to control it measure it, keep it within our reach, the reaction of the public, the shareholders, the board, it all hinges on how we deal with it.’’

Roman’s jaw is clenched so hard he can’t feel it anymore and Shiv enters his line of vision furiously texting.

‘‘Okay, I killed it, we have the photos now, they cost a pretty penny, mind you. You guys just need to be more careful from now on. I know you said you were going public with this at one point, but Ro, just like Gerri said, you need to keep the ball in your court as much as possible, give no one leeway to spin the narrative! And also, keep the PDA to a zero, even if this was just in the lobby of your own building, and it was just handholding. There’s always gonna be some pap out there wanting to make a quick buck, and though you two are not Tinseltown celebs, you are at the center of the juiciest scandal about recently. And, if Nan Pierce got hold of those pictures, there would be no saving us from that high and mighty puritanical ordeal.’’

He thinks he needs to sit down. They don’t get it, neither of them. He was born into ridiculous wealth, given everything he ever wanted, nectar and fucking ambrosia for breakfast, lunch and dinner (fair enough, with a side of knuckle sandwich sometimes, but that’s beside the point) and yet not once in his pathetic little rodent life had he ever had someone in his life he needed desperately to show to the world as much as he did Gerri. His human credential, one in seven billion. Because if someone as perfect and wonderful and brilliant and good as her can love him, then surely there must be something in him worth that love?

She was everything, she was the one ray of fucking sunshine in his cocked up vortex of an existence and she was treating this like a business deal. He was well aware of the fucking optics, ad nauseam as he was submitted to them on a daily basis, but to hear Gerri sound so cold about it, like she couldn’t care less if they ever told anyone they were married? It makes bile churn in his gut and he has to take a gulp of his whiskey to calm down.

As the alcohol burns its way down his throat, from the corner of his eye, he thinks he can see a deep frown etching itself onto Gerri’s forehead but as soon as he looks up it is gone.

‘‘Siobhan, would you mind letting me and the ol’ ball and chain have a moment?’’

He is well aware he is being a complete dick, knows he’s snowballing but he feels like there is nothing he can do about it.

Shiv rolls her eyes but grabs her phone and bag, heading for the front door.

‘‘Ro, just…take a step back, assess. You know she’s right.’’

The sound of the door closing behind her leaves the two of them in the living room, ice of a heavy silence hanging in the air around them.

Gerri thinks about ways to approach him, but fails to come up with any that could assuage what she knows is bothering him. He is feeling rattled in this newborn marriage of theirs, yes, but it’s only because she is twice as insecure that she could read him.

In all his dauphinesque, child-prince glory, he fails to see things from her perspective. Which is fine, she’d signed up, among other things, for leading him down the path of things he has yet to learn about, but at times, and especially now, it was exhausting.

In order to stop herself from biting his head off, she pours herself another drink, knowing she was going to have a headache in the morning but not being able to give a single fuck.

‘‘Did you even want to marry me? Was this some kind of guilt, because you think I wouldn’t be able to stand it all on my own? Because you think I needed you that badly? That it was your duty to the fucking family that employed you?’’

He takes a step closer and she takes one back. Dance macabre. He can sense the walled away Gerri making an appearance, the Gerri from back when they were nothing more to each other than work colleagues and she was godmother to his sister. The feeling makes him want to double over and throw up.

The look of utter betrayal on her face tells him in no uncertain terms he made a grave mistake and his stomach twists with anger at his own predictable dickheadedness.

She downs her drink, never taking her now glassy eyes off his, fury mounting, breathing in the beginning stages of erratic. Finally, after a long moment, she looks away and heads towards the master bedroom.

‘‘Don’t follow me.’’, she utters as she walks away, voice cool and measured.

He feels his legs give way, and he collapses onto the couch. The overwhelming need to scream engulfs him and he grabs the nearest pillow, getting his teeth around a mouthful of the fabric, his heart feeling like it’s on the verge of exploding.

* * *

If she wasn’t sure he would hear her, she would break the empty tumbler she was currently holding, smash it directly into the marble fireplace. Instead, she places it neatly down on the mantel, heading to the bathroom to get ready for the night.

She was hurt, yes, but she was the veteran of married life of the two, and she understood it was a minor setback. He needed to process, and that is why she distanced herself. Though, if she was being completely honest, she couldn’t promise herself she wouldn’t seek him out in the night. Probably sooner rather than later.

It was proving increasingly hard to sleep without him by her side, so much so that not even pills worked anymore.

Running a steamy bath she lets the bath salts do their thing and turns to undress. She catches sight of her naked body in the ornate mirror for the first time in a while. She had lost weight since they’d arrived from Croatia, and some more since the whole Peter situation. It made her look slightly better to her own eye, though she does acknowledge the unhealthy aspect of it, of effectively almost starving herself.

She also knows all about the sneaky maneuvers Roman thought she wasn’t aware of. Like Liz’s sudden habit of asking if she’d like to split a Caesar salad or if she would like to have some yoghurt and fruit instead of the quick half a bite of burgers and fries they were all getting during all-nighters because Liz just so happened to be on a diet and would Gerri join her so she doesn’t fall off the wagon?

That was Roman’s love language, mute care. He couldn’t handle even the possibility of being rejected, spurned by her, so he never thought to actually brace himself for the onslaught he believed would come his way by actually talking to her. Instead he concocted silly plans and bribed people into helping him. Which bottom lined to the same outcome, she was eating better and more steadily, but Gerri still would have preferred his words. She thinks it will be a while before she hears them.

* * *

Roman finally manages to drag himself away from the couch after a while of wallowing in his own misery, towards the guest rooms, briefly pausing in the hallway, staring at the strip of light coming from the bottom of their bedroom door

He knows she needs space, knows her retreat was an often used war strategy, especially utilized when Logan had stepped over the line one too many times, designed and perfected through infinite rounds of boar-on-the-floor , a memory Roman still has trouble thinking about without his stomach turning, his teeth grinding, imagining patricide might not be that bad.

But fuck, all he wants is to see her, to know that she knows that what he said didn’t change things, that he never meant it. He is well aware of the Roy family’s pretty messed up coping mechanisms of dealing with obstacles, and he feels like a total asshole for letting one of them come into play and meddle in his relationship with her.

He makes a snap decision to check on her. He at least wants to know she’s sleeping soundly.

When he gets no answer after a soft knock he presses into the oak of the door, hears the slight splashing of water.

A bath. Gerri is a shower person, baths were reserved for special nights she really needed to relax.

He thumps his head on the wall, hard, rubs at the sore sensation and the imprint it leaves on his forehead and braces himself to enter.

* * *

The bubble bath is heaven, and so is the NY skyline from the massive windows to her right but all Gerri can think of is how big the bath is and that she feels dwarfed sitting in it all alone.

She plays with her wedding band, now sitting in the tiny porcelain tray to the side, as she had been afraid the thing would slip off and end up in the drain.

She turns it this way and that, her eyes alighting on their initials _. GKR & RK_. Roman had them engraved when they returned. He’d asked her if she wanted a new set, something more to her liking, but she already loved the gold platinum version of their rings so much she couldn’t imagine getting new ones. So these ended up being engraved, to further seal the deal.

The thing is, she knows this entire situation is beyond foolish. Knows that this decision to wed a man twenty years her junior was the silliest thing she has ever done, but even though it may have started as a business proposal first, it morphed so effortlessly to everything she’d ever wanted in life.

Thoughts of her late husband had been swarming incessantly since they’d returned from Croatia, and she figured it was time to address them.

Baird was a quiet, unnoticeable husband, at first. Meek, sufficient and tame. He was the best father, he loved animals and he cared for her… enough. Not enough not to cheat on her every chance he got or respect her thoughts on much, but sufficiently to clean up after himself and not let his family ever be in the center of any kind of scandal.

It was her outward indifference to his affairs that made that arrangement work. Well, what he perceived as indifference. No woman would every truly be okay with her husband sleeping with everything that moved without giving her a second glance.

With the marriage almost being a business partnership, the girls loved and cared for, they could both do their jobs efficiently without the conjugal devotion part of a marriage ever being an issue.

This was especially true for the better part of the final decade of their life together. When he died, she only really ever grieved for the best friend she had in him, but even that friend had been lost to the first other woman that came along.

She’d never allowed herself the luxury of ever thinking of adding the element of romance back to the roster since he died, repressed all her own wants and needs, child-rearing and work making such a thing near impossible to fit into her schedule. Also, Baird and his wayward trousers had made her somewhat insecure about herself in that respect.

She doesn’t know what exactly it was about Roman that she saw that first made her think, ‘‘He is different, has more intelligence than all of his siblings put together, and maybe if every single fucking member of his family stopped giving him a hard time he’d be able to make something of himself!’’. She has no clue when his moans and grunts first started making her lightheaded, doesn’t actually remember when she first slipped her hand between her own thighs and got off to the sound of flesh against flesh, down the line to him, silent and cautious, but no less fervent. It all happened so naturally and so quickly her head still felt like it was spinning.

She decided as early as back then to not let him become like any of the Roys. He is a Kellman now, and she thinks she has never been more grateful she never took Baird’s last name, having Roman place it next to his would be too odd. _Romulus Kellman_ felt so right she can’t help but imagine it was written in at least a few of the stars out there, maybe, perhaps?

She adds more hot water to her lukewarm bath and leans back. But just as she does, a sound of the door opening grabs her attention. She rolls her eyes and settles deeper into the magnolia scented bubbles. If she were any more of a child she’d spray him head to toe the moment he decided to enter.

But, since she is a mature woman she does nothing more than give him the cold shoulder.

Which proves more than difficult to keep doing when she first sees his repentant face in the doorway, his shirt half unbuttoned and sweaty, tie already probably littering the living room floor.

She presses her lips together, hand playing with the foam, slowly making swirling patterns on the surface, looking for all the world like she is bored with his mere existence. Except, she likes to think he knows her way better than that.

The urge to play the usual Roman-Gerri push and pull is very strong, but she resists, holds off. It would do neither of them any good to prolong the argument, at least for the remainder of the evening.

He sits himself on the edge of the bath, almost six feet away from her and finally she decides to look away, his imploring gaze overwhelming, her heart constricting with just how much she loves him.

* * *

He sees in her, so tiny in the huge bath, the soul of fucking Cleopatra, a queen that owns him to his fucked up core and beyond, and all he wants to do is prostrate himself on the tiles, let her dole out any punishment she sees fit. But he knows that’s not what she wants, she wants him to learn, and do better and not have her be the only one that can carry a normal discussion.

He tries to parse her posture, figure out just how close to her he could get without getting absolutely soaked if she decides to retaliate. He smirks at the image the thought evokes. At that, she looks his way again, tilts her head in mock inquiry, infamous eyebrow arched.

He sobers quickly, keeping her gaze, his breathing deeper now, mesmerized by her dilating pupils. This often seemed to be their reaction to the other, and during board meetings and alike it was a neat little party trick between the two of them, a staring contest, seeing who would have to excuse themselves first. She always won, of course. He looks forward to many more rounds of sexual chicken with her, as ridiculous as the phrase sounds in his mind.

* * *

The inevitable reaction of her body to him almost always takes her off guard. She feels her clit begin to throb and she slides the hand hidden under the foam against the slick skin of her inner thigh, careful to go slow and not jostle the calm surface. Wouldn’t want him too smug. Or at all.

But he wouldn’t be fucking playboy wannabe Roman Roy if he didn’t have a few tricks up his sleeve when it came to her and her own deck of cards. He reads her flushed cheeks so easily and the preternatural calm of her entire being is as damning as the loudest of moans.

She has no idea what to expect, too wired and strung out to think properly, but when she sees him slide closer against the lip of the bath, she takes a deep, shaky breath, not caring if he hears it.

He gets on his knees mere inches away from her, eyes never leaving hers, expression serious, imploring, so very, very loving.

He looks away for only a second, to focus on her left leg jutting out of the water, his fingers dancing lightly on the soapy skin before sliding, torturously slow, down, under the surface of the water, his hand now grabbing her inner thigh possessively but lightly, just the kind of pressure he knows keeps her on edge. His eyes back on hers, he slides his palm further down and she almost cries in relief when he finally cups her, throbbing, needy, opening to him more, legs spread as wide as the bath allows.

Her deep breaths make her chest slide up and above the water and he stops himself from diving head first into the flushed skin on display, instead focusing on the movements of his hand, his fingers circling the tiny bundle of nerves he adores so much. It was so funny to him that if it were it any other person, this very action would cause no similar reaction in him, or even a completely opposite one. With Gerri, his pants are straining so hard he thinks they might pop at the seams.

He returns to the task, sliding first one, then two, and very soon a third finger inside of her, so ready for him, her thighs trembling as he initiates a calming rhythm, his thumb circling her clit soothingly, a slow yet thunder-and-lightning rocking motion he knows she appreciates, her breasts now on full display, her back arching, water sloshing over onto the floor in tandem with his thrusts.

* * *

She’s close, so close, and knows she’ll regret it the moment she does it but still, her hands flies through the water, movement molasses slow in her mind, but in reality lightning quick, catching him off guard, feeling his fingers stop immediately, thinking he’d hurt her.

As gently as she can, hand around his wrist, she guides him out of her body, out of the water. She rises from the now half-empty bath, stepping onto the tiles, the bathroom a veritable little aqua park.

He is on his back on the cold wet floor then, understanding what she wants.

His pants and briefs are gone in a second, now probably getting completely ruined in the suds surrounding them but Roman knows he’d gladly ruin another hundred of those if it meant he can keep looking up at her the way she is now, gloriously naked, skin glistening, hair up, little tendrils framing her face curling up to their natural shape due to the heat, eyes glassy with want, sliding onto him, taking her pleasure. He inhales a deep breath, straining hard not to buck into her, wanting to give her all the control she craves. But when she snakes her palms under his back and down to his ass and squeezes hard, nails digging into his skin, he can’t help but thrust up hard, so ready to do her bidding.

‘‘Oh, god, yes, fuck, yesyesyesyes-’’

Her hushed words and guttural moan reverberate in the sauna-like bathroom. His left hand meanders to her breasts, cups one, thumb sliding against a sensitive nipple tenderly, and she arches into his palm in greed, eyes shooting open, focusing on his. There she is. She’s back. The anger is dissolved. And it’s not the sex, it’s them. Put them in a room together and no matter the argument are having, their frequencies will always align, never to wander too far from each other. That is not to say he is forgiven, but that he is understood, though he always knew that, even before he knocked on her door mere minutes prior. Now she has just given way to her feelings, undid the foundations of that wall he was afraid she had started constructing again.

His right hand palms her lower back, fingers inching lower, stretching her more as he pounds into her and she falls further into him, moving her hips just so, the she-devil in her knowing that he is close, but also well aware of just what to do to make it last a little bit longer. She slides her lips over his collar bones, nipping lightly, and when she reaches his neck, the sensation of her teeth almost vicious enough to break skin makes him teeter on that delightful edge, her mouth landing on his in the dirtiest kiss he’s ever experienced.

‘‘Let go, Rome.’’

He swallows her hot words in a possessive kiss and obeys her, as always, takes the precious gift she keeps on giving and feels her clench around him in response, the orgasm hitting them both at the same time, bodies colliding in a harmony so unique to them.

* * *

He holds her tenderly, as she rolls off him slightly, though unwilling to let him slip out of her just yet. He’d noticed this with her, she likes to stay connected for as long as possible, and the feeling almost makes him hard all over again. He nuzzles into her neck, her heated skin flushed and dewy, ripe for the taking and he can’t resist a lick and a nip.

Her breath hitches, catching in the back of her throat and he knows she’d be ready for round two but also knows that come morning they will regret the hardness of the floor if they stayed on it much longer.

He feels her fingers toying with his five o’ clock shadow, thinks he missed the opportunity to use it to his advantage, situated diligently between her legs, but figures tomorrow is as good a time as any, when they are both more rested and he is able to appreciate it more fully.

‘‘Rome…I…’’

He smiles at her, ever so gently brushes the sweat off her forehead. She’s about to berate herself for her reaction in the living room as equally as she will condemn his, he sees it in the slight furrow of her brow and the purse of her lips, throat bobbing with a hard swallow. He cannot have her think she is anything less than completely right, and will likely always be, for the rest of their lives.

‘‘No. I messed up. You know it, I know it. And much like I cannot promise you I won’t blow up again like the feckless Richie Rich I am, I can also promise you, as solemnly as I uttered my wedding vows, that I will work hard on not being the little shit I was being in that living room tonight.’’

He knows she will object to his use of such words, one of the things she hates most is when he puts himself down, but he has to say it or it would keep eating him up inside.

‘‘I know you’re right, and in my childish, entitled need to put a spotlight on the best thing that’s ever happened to me, I fucking blew the whole situation out of proportion. I need you to know, that not even in my wildest nightmares would I ever truly believe that you could hurt me. I would never think that you are anything but completely honest with me.’’

She finally moves away, letting go of him, the feeling of having bared his soul while still firmly inside her warming Roman in a way that makes it one of the biggest comforts ever.

They leave the bathroom, him slipping out of his shirt but enveloping her in a soft terrycloth robe. As they lay side by side, she cocoons his body in hers, hands coming to rest on his back, his head tucked into the crook of her neck.

‘‘Gerr?’’, he hears himself call out to her as they encase themselves further into a perfect bundle of warmth.

‘‘Yes?’’

He can almost physically feel the caress of the word, slight smile rounding it at its sibilant edges, her lips on his forehead.

‘‘I love you.’’

* * *

She wakes on her stomach, with a headache the size of Canada and when she tries to turn onto her back, she realizes a weight is pinning her down and smiles through the pain. A naked Roman is plastered almost completely on top of her, like a molten octopus, clingy as ever in his sleep.

She had gotten used to it pretty quickly since they got married, but right now the pain in her head and the heat he is giving off in waves are making her nauseous. Stretching her free arm out, she slaps his ass firmly, grabbing hold of a handful of sinewy thigh while she is down there.

‘‘Ooow, what the fuck was that for, devil woman?!’’, he exclaims, rolling away immediately, bringing her robe with him, for which she is infinitely grateful, her body temperature slowly coming back to normal.

She lets out a hearty laugh at his antics, immediately regretting it, the headache slapping her mute. She bolts from the bed as fast as she can, reaching the toilet seat just in time to see most of the alcohol she’d consumed making its merry way back.

‘‘Gerri, are you okay?’’

She wants to curse him out for the stupidity of the question, but immediately regrets even the thought of it because when she lifts her head to take a breath, he is kneeling next to her, his face a wreck. He is barely awake and yet she managed to terrify him so badly he looked close to having a heart attack.

They both still had so much to learn about this marriage thing they walked into. But, she can’t say she doesn’t look forward to it.

‘‘I’m fine, it’s the heat, and I hadn’t eaten much yesterday.’’

She waits him out, hoping that maybe, the words of last night would keep flowing. She had been so proud, and wanted to let him know, but looking at him now, she knows he hadn’t even begun telling her. About all of his fears, all he wants for this union of theirs.

She hopes to coax it out of him little by little.

She gets up and washes her face and teeth, getting rid of the foul taste, him hovering nearby, both of them naked as the day they were born. The silliness and closeness of the entire scene makes her smile so wide, too wide for a person whose head was so deep in the toilet not a minute prior, her neck feels like it suffered whiplash.

‘‘Ger?’’, he slinks closer, mouth set in a tiny, perfect pout she wants to kiss off so badly she almost gives in. Instead, she lets him speak his mind, so very glad he seemed to be coming around.

‘‘Romulus?’’, she pouts back, feeling childish and twenty years younger and she thinks she wouldn’t trade this feeling for anything in the world.

‘‘What would you say to a day of playing hooky?’’

She knows it’s a bad idea, but the happy glimmer in his eyes juxtaposed with the misery in his posture every time they are forced to set foot back at the office makes her mind up for her.

‘‘Oh? And pray tell, what would that entail?’’, she murmurs, already planning on calling Karolina to cover for them. She closes the distance between them, arms secured around his waist, head tucked under his chin, fingers dancing across his shoulder blades. She thinks she’ll never get tired of listening to the melody of his heartbeat.

* * *

His idea turns out to be the best one he’d had since asking her to marry him. They take Shiv’s advice to heart regarding PDAs and decide to stay in and order all kinds of food, with Netflix in front of the eighty inch screen TV in the living room, a mountain of blankets and pillows surrounding them.

‘‘What do you wanna watch next?’’

She thinks on it for a while before letting him choose, she’s sure the pizza and ice cream they had for lunch would put her to sleep within the first fifteen minutes anyway.

She is dozing as he scrolls through the selection on offer but is jolted from her near-sleep by the sound of Meryl Streep’s voice cloaked in an Italian accent. Her eyes shoot open at her favorite movie, but otherwise she remains still.

‘‘Why this one?’’

He shifts against her so she can lean into him better, and she presses her cheek against his bicep. He’s quiet a long while after her question and she can tell he’s processing it and forming an answer by the way his fingers play with the ends of the quilt he covered her with.

‘‘I was thirteen when the au pair took me and Shiv to see it with her. She was Italian, too I guess the whole aspect of it appealed to her romantic soul’’. Here he rolls his eyes and Gerri smiles into his arm, encouraging him to continue.

‘‘It stuck with me. Up until that moment, I hadn’t understood. ‘‘

Gerri looks up at him and sees his brow furrow almost painfully, eyes losing focus. She slides her hand in his, gripping gently, feels him squeeze back.

‘‘Francesca, she sacrificed herself for her children, who, by the way, hadn’t ended up any better than they would have had she left them, in my not so humble opinion. So, it was an eye opener. It’s not that our mother hadn’t loved us when she decided to give us up after the divorce, it’s that she loved Rory more. I never gave him much thought before any of it, but I had realized then that he was always around even if they weren’t officially together, and that in staying in England, in letting Dad take us, not fighting for us, she was choosing herself. And even though - as per my brilliant hypothesis –’’, he grins, eyebrows wagging in a sneaky attempt to ward off the emotion,’’-I believe it wouldn’t have made us any better as humans had she stuck around, it would have maybe… made us a little happier? Sure, at the expense of a little bit of her misery, but as kids, I think we were entitled to some joy.’’

There is nothing she can say to make him feel better, not in that moment at least, and she also knows that that’s not what he wants. He wraps his arm around her shoulders, his cheek settling against the top of her head. She twists to face him, placing a soft kiss on his nose, both cheeks, his forehead. He dips down then, kisses her lips gently, so tenderly that she thinks she might weep. Her hand grasps at the fabric of his T shirt. He ends the kiss and she settles back into the warmth, to watch her favorite movie with her husband.

* * *

‘‘Green Mile? After that sob fest? You’re lucky I had no makeup on, that would have left a clown imprint on your shirt from all the tears and the snot. No, no way, we’re not watching another tearjerker, I’m picking the next one.’’

He laughs at her disheveled state and reaches out to her, tissue in hand.

‘‘M’lady.’’

‘‘Thank you, kind sir. Now get your ass in motion and get me a Gatorade. I’ve been crying so hard I feel like my eyes are burning up.’’

‘‘Yes, Sir!’’

He does a mock salute and she playfully swats him on his way to the kitchen for his insolence. Not five seconds later, her phone decides to sound from the coffee table where it’s charging, the caller-assigned melody she always dreaded and had not heard in almost two whole months booming loudly.

‘‘Who the fuck is in your contacts with this fucking deathly hallows ringtone?! Scared the shit out of me in there, I almost dropped a gallon of milk onto my foot!’’, he calls out, coming out of the kitchen.

She swallows against a suddenly even drier throat, looks up at him.

‘‘Well, he did always have a flare for the dramatic, I figured it suited him.’’

Recognition silences him and they’re left in a living room just as icy as it was the night before, albeit for very different reasons, with Carl Orf’s _O Fortuna_ echoing ominously off every available surface, Logan’s caller ID flashing eerily.

**PART 3**

_NY, some 3 weeks after Croatia_

As she washes her hands in her private bathroom she hears a music beat coming from the office. She walks out to find Roman sitting back in her chair in a position no human being should be able to comfortably sit in. And yet he was apparently doing just that, the reclining chair almost giving way under his slender form and unnatural posture, but somehow still standing its own. She grins.

‘‘Is this your way of saying we should go home? Playing the credits?’’, she asks, pulling him from his thought her hands sliding briefly across his shoulders as she motions for him to get up.

He looks at her oddly from under his incredibly long eye-lashes and she smothers the urge to smile at him. God, he has her whipped. Not that she’ll ever admit it to him in quite so many words.

He lets her have her chair back, stopping himself from touching the lock of hair that tumbled from her up-do. The office is empty, but he has an inkling the move wouldn’t go down well with her. She is grumpy, tired, and hungry and he needs to fix that soon. Right after the song he played with a very specific purpose.

‘‘I like the lyrics. Very much actually. Take a listen, and you’ll get it.’’, he says and restarts the song for her.

He gives her space, walks away, watches her concentrating on the syllables.

_I watch the work of my kin, bold and boyful  
Toying somewhere between love and abuse  
Calling to join them the wretched and joyful  
Shaking the wings of their terrible youths  
  
Freshly disowned in some frozen devotion  
No more alone or myself could I be  
Lurched like a stray to the arms that were open  
No shortage of sordid, no protest from me_

She closes her eyes, taking in the full meaning of what he is trying to tell her. Her darling Roman, he will never completely stop being afraid of using his words. But this was just as powerful, if not more, she thinks, still listening to the lyrics.

_With her sweetened breath, and her tongue so mean  
She's the angel of small death and the codeine scene  
With her straw-blonde hair, her arms hard and lean  
She's the angel of small death and the codeine scene  
  
Feeling more human and hooked on her flesh, I  
Lay my heart down with the rest at her feet  
Fresh from the fields, all fetor and fertile  
It's bloody and raw, but I swear it is sweet_

He sits back in her chair as she walks to the window, perches on the sill.

She is too old, she thinks to herself, to be falling so in love, so head over heels, and probably for the first true time in her life. She shakes herself out of it and finally smiles at his expectant face, hand coming up to trace her ring and her favorite war weapon pendant.

She pushes away from the window, leans against the desk, looks down at him.

‘‘Do you remember when I came to pick you up that time from the military academy?’’

He is thrown by her line of thinking but follows it without question.

‘‘Yup. That broken window and the party we went to were not worth the Logan Roy rage, I can tell you that.’’

‘‘Cut the crap, I know you were lying. I know you never broke that window. I don’t know about all the other instances you had to be bailed out of shitstorms, but that one wasn’t your doing. It was however, the doing of that little cherub-faced weakling Norwegian kid Daniel, your so-called best friend at the time.’’

His father was, if she was remembering correctly, Frederick Petersen, who, though not as rich or powerful as the Roys, still had the temper to very accurately rival Logan’s, surpassing it maybe to the point of sadism.

He doesn’t answer, head bowed. After a while he looks up at her.

‘‘Well, you know Dad was gonna whoop my sorry ass either way, everyone thought it was me, why should both of us have to suffer?’’

‘‘Yeah. And I want you to remember that the next time you feel you need lyrics of what is indisputably a wonderful song to explain your feelings to me. I know what you are capable of, have been seeing it first hand for a long time. The only thing I want equally as I do the love you have for me is for you to see yourself. Simple as that.’’

He grasps her hand, not daring to do anything else, feeling shaky all of a sudden, like he’d shed his own skin, like his lungs processed air for the first time.

‘‘Come on, let’s go home, there’s a bottle of that good bourbon with our names on it.’’, she says, getting her purse.

He smirks at the mention of their middle ground for alcohol. He wasn’t much into vodka, she abhorred most all kinds of whisky, but bourbon was acceptable for both.

‘‘Only if we can have it in bed?’’, he waggles his eyebrows, hands in his pockets, trying to stop himself from reaching out to touch her, aware of all the security cameras in the hallways.

She smiles, a brief laugh escaping her lips.

* * *

Just as they’re about to enter her car, the driver already holding the door open, both their phones ring at the same time.

‘‘Karolina?’’

‘‘Frank?’’

They’re both quiet as they listen to their respective callers, the hand she allowed herself to wind through his arm to keep warm on an unusually cold spring night now gripping his bicep nervously.

She hangs up, waiting for him as he finishes talking to Frank.

‘‘Well, we knew it was going to be sooner rather than later.’’

She nods.

‘‘Come on, Karolina is on her way back, Frank too.’’

‘‘So much for Bourbon Bedtime.’’, he sighs and she can’t help but agree and join him in his misery.

* * *

As Gerri settles back in front of her computer, Roman is on his phone ordering enough food to feed an army because he cannot have another all-nighter start on an empty stomach. The last time that happened he was ready to chew through the armrest of the couch and his hangry behavior did not win him many points with Gerri. He double-checks to make sure he ordered the grilled salmon with the kale puree she likes.

Just as he is wrapping up the order, Karolina ploughs into the office.

‘‘It’s out. Someone on Nan’s end already got wind of it and it’s plastered all over their channels.’’

‘‘Oh shit’’, Gerri says, swiveling in her chair,

Roman turning on the TV.

_‘‘Logan Roy, former CEO and owner of Waystar Royco media conglomerate has been arrested this afternoon, when the FBI arrived at his residence, the infamous Roy family’s Summer Palace.’’_

‘‘Infamous? Is this the fucking Wild West?’’ Roman murmurs, Gerri shutting him up with a swift look, and he locks away the humor, the reality of the whole thing crashing heavily onto his psyche.

‘‘What the fuck, how is there actual footage of the arrest?’’, Gerri asks, incredulous.

Karolina shakes her head, eyes on her phone.

‘‘I’m getting word from a few acquaintances at Pierce that it was Nan, of course. She knew it was coming; her sources with the FBI were keeping her well informed. So she made sure she had a casual bystander there when the arrest went down, ‘‘accidentally’’ filming the whole thing.

‘‘The place is private property!’’, Roman spews, indignation bubbling up in his chest at not having seen something like this coming.

‘‘Yeah, and something like that has stopped Nan from getting what she wants, when exactly?’’, Gerri asks, getting up from her chair, grabbing the crystal marble-shaped paper weight from her desk, passing by Roman’s seat, casually slipping it into his hands, her palm then brushing his shoulder lightly.

Karolina looks up at that, sees Roman now absentmindedly rolling the sphere in his hands almost like a seasoned magician, Gerri muting the TV, Logan’s face now staring at all of them, on a loop in the Pierce family’s vindictive, faux-wholesome shit-eating special.

Before Karolina can do or think much else, Frank barrels in, out of breath, having caught the tail end of the report on his phone in the elevator.

‘‘Holy crap, that was rough. No Shakespearean approach in that report, was there?’’

Gerri shakes her head, incensed but trying to keep her cool.

‘‘There’s nothing Shakespearean about Nan Pierce, much as she loves to think of herself as the leader of the erudite masses of the great United States of America. She is not that different to Logan, it’s just that she’s a woman, and is used to having to hide her brute force, sugarcoat it in concern for the public good that is anything but. And this,’’ she points her finger at the screen with force, ‘‘is just a bite sized nugget of what she is capable of.’’

‘‘How do you want to handle this?’’, Karolina asks.

Roman looks up, eager to hear the plan. Gerri takes a deep breath, not really knowing how he would react to what she has to say.

‘‘Full separation of church and state.’’

* * *

It’s not like he hadn’t seen it coming, it was the only reasonable thing to do now if they meant to save Waystar and keep it out of the gutter, keep a clean board. But, facing the actual possibility of cutting all ties with his father? He almost has to stop himself from doing a little celebratory jig. Some time ago, he wouldn’t have given two shits what anyone in that room thought, and would have gone to bat for his family harder than anyone else, out of some deeply misplaced feelings of loyalty.

However, after everything that’s gone down, after Gerri and the way she’d shown him how he didn’t have to be the Romulus Logan expected of him, didn’t have to try and reach that level of cruel and mindless, he is a changed man. And it is in that very moment that the fact becomes crystal clear to him.

He looks up at Gerri and smiles briefly, nodding his assent to her strategy, thinking she’d be the only one to catch the look on his face, but Karolina’s hawk eye misses nothing.

She pipes up from the chair in the corner.

‘‘Roman, we need to talk about something before we do anything else, just to get it off the agenda. Even before tonight I have been getting reports about people getting agitated. Basically, the vitriol level against the Roy name is slightly higher than usual, and though your father is the one we would normally limit security to, I am going to have to suggest a round the clock protection detail for you as well. Especially since you’ve been promoted to COO now and your security status is upgraded anyway.’’

Roman taps his foot nervously, looking to Gerri for her take on the matter.

‘‘Good idea. ‘‘, she says, agreeing, ‘‘Get an outside contractor and draft an ironclad NDA. One person, highly qualified, preferably former black ops, we don’t need to be attracting any more attention than we already are by having an entire Seal team with him.’’

‘‘Roman?’’, Karolina says, seeking his confirmation. He nods. Thinks how maybe later on he will approach the idea of Gerri also getting a security detail of her own, already knowing he would have to fight her on it. But, his detail would do for now, they were almost like conjoined twins most days anyway.

‘‘Gerri is on point for anything you might need to consult with me for, from now on.’’

Karolina nods, fingers already tapping away, shooting off emails to various contacts. Roman’s phone beeps letting him know the food has arrived.

‘‘Yo Frank, my man, could you be a sport and get the dinner, the guy’s downstairs and I am in no mood to be around any other person today.’’

Frank nods and heads out. As soon as the door closes behind him, Karolina opens her mouth to say something but shuts it just as quickly. Gerri tilts her head in a bout of confusion, brows furrowed in question. Karolina fidgets in her seat, avoiding eye contact with both of them, seemingly at a loss for words. Finally she seems to get it together, and looks up, eyes darting from Gerri to Roman in a slightly concerned way.

‘‘Okay, so, I have to ask, before Frank gets back…is there anything you two want to tell me?’’

* * *

He’d known for a long while that half of him held a tarred and feathered wretch, and the other half encapsulated her, and his love for her. The two sides battled a lot less lately, the tar fizzing away under her gaze, her touch, her care.

But when he hears Karolina’s pointed question, the wretch awakens, first instinct being to protect Gerri at all cost, feels his hackles rising. He glances at her, finding her unmoving, just a slow blink sent Karolina’s way and he knows immediately she won’t deny anything. Karolina was deemed a safe space. Not that there was much debate over that, ever, she was always the most trustworthy of the bunch, the primary quality one seeks in a PR officer. He is glad he can pack away the unnecessary appearance of Mr. Hyde. In a way, he is glad he has a use for him, happy in the knowledge that the bastard won’t rear its ugly head for any other reason than for Gerri.

Karolina clears her throat, less frazzled and more composed. Gerri’s slow blink must have conveyed her message.

‘‘I don’t think anyone else noticed but, you have been different since you got back. Not glaringly so, but I can see it because I am trained to preempt certain things becoming problems. From what I can see, your current-’’ she pauses here, looking for the right term, ‘‘-situation has the potential to be one of those things. I am sorry to be so blunt, but, this is my job, it’s what I was hired to do. So, I guess what I am saying is that if anything _is_ happening you need to keep me appraised. Because we cannot afford for me to be blindsided by anything remotely similar to what Nan just pulled. Think about it, if she managed to get footage of Logan’s arrest, at his heavily guarded and private property, can you imagine what she can get on you? And how she can twist it to her ‘‘saintly’’ benefit?’’

Gerri sighs, taking her glasses off, licking her lips - a nervous tick Roman is all too familiar with - at a loss for words.

‘‘Different how?’’, Roman asks.

‘‘You mean, what did I notice?’’

‘‘Yeah. If we’re gonna preempt anything, like you said, we need to know what it is that you _think_ you see.’’

Karolina smiles slightly at his avoidance of an outright confession, thinks back, trying to find the best answer.

‘‘Just now, actually. Gerri, you are the toughest person ever to read, I never know what the next words out of your mouth are going to be, never know what you’re going to do next, that’s how close to your vest you keep your cards. And yet, a minute ago I witnessed you execute such a perfect calming maneuver, all the while completely unaware you were doing it.’’

Gerri seems entirely thrown by that and she arches an eyebrow in question, still too flabbergasted to actually form words.

‘‘The paper weight. Roman was at the beginning of a spiral, and you immediately reacted, placed it into his hands, kept him occupied and calm. And you finished it off with a shoulder touch. Perfectly innocent to an outsider but a neon sign post to me. And Roman?’’, she turns to him here, her face open and honest, ’’ You need to work on your bedroom eyes. As in, keep them in the bedroom. Again, you're not too obvious, but if you let it happen more often, people are going to start asking questions. They're bound to notice something at one point, you two are joined at the hip. I know most of it is for work, you two are the active faces of Waystar right now, but I also know that you most probably leave for the same destination when you leave the office at the end of the day, so maybe try taking separate cars? Or at least leave the office five minutes apart?’’

Well, the jig is up and Roman can’t say he feels bad. Having at least one more person know about them is making him happier than he ever thought he could be in a situation like theirs. He looks to Gerri, his hand playing with the buttons of his shirt, and she knows he is trying to locate the outline of his wedding ring to calm himself. So, she makes the decision for both of them.

She slips her necklace gently from under her silk shirt and makes pointed eye contact with Karolina, getting a kind of perverse joy in the puff of air that gets caught in the younger woman’s throat at the surprise of seeing the ring.

‘‘Croatia?’’

They both nod. Karolina too, and Roman can almost see the cogs turning, a strategy being prepared.

‘‘Okay, so this is clearly not meant to stay a secret forever, but I would suggest taking all my earlier advice and also waiting until the whole Logan situation is at least in its early stages of dying down. Then, we wouldn’t even make a statement, we would just…put the rings on, and allow you to actually act like husband and wife. The public and the board can do with that information what they will, okay?’’ She pauses here, takes a deep breath, a megawatt smile taking possession of her gentle features.

‘‘And…congratulations.’’

Roman is elated at their first congrats, overjoyed at her showing them just how much she was on their side.

‘‘Thank you, Karolina.’’

Gerri speaks up for the first time, her voice gruff, like her vocal cords are so taut, close to severing. Roman wants nothing more than to hug her and knows Gerri would let him, Karolina’s presence be damned, but Frank enters with the takeaway bag and Gerri quickly puts the ring back under her shirt, the three of them looking for all the world as if nothing of importance had happened.

* * *

_NY, two months after Croatia_

‘‘You think he knows?’’ Roman asks, chewing on his thumb nervously, Gerri getting rid of the pizza boxes littering the table. They decided to not take Logan’s call until they were prepared for whatever was about to hit them from the other end.

‘‘Well, I don’t know. I know it wasn’t Karolina, and Shiv is way too into being on the right side of this I don’t think she would want to rock the boat now we’re finally getting ourselves out of the mud pit Logan left us in. I mean, anything is possible at this point. But we have to be prepared for the possibility that yes, he does know, why else would he call, today of all days? He hadn’t even called when I-’’

Her voice catches at the memory she has tried so hard to keep in the back of her mind ever since Roman and Shiv got her out of that office.

Roman is by her side in an instant, hand cupping her heated cheeks, lips on her forehead, and she allows herself to lean into him.

‘‘Did you make the appointment with the doctor Karolina recommended?’’

This is the most open he has been with talking about the Peter situation with her, and she cannot thank him enough for putting up with her silence on the matter, for following her lead, as unhealthy as said lead may be. She knows, it is becoming increasingly clear to her, that she needs to deal with the residual trauma, the night sweats and the panic attacks she has so far managed to keep a secret from Roman.

‘‘Not yet, but I will. It’ been busy these last few days since it happened, but I’ll get Liz on it tomorrow.’’

‘‘Promise?’’

‘‘Promise.’’

She seals it with a deep kiss, trying to put into that contact everything she is still learning how to put into words, reminding herself that they will also need, at one point, to broach the topic of his own hostage experience, another trauma that both of them had decided to compartmentalize.

He isn’t the only one who sometimes needs guidance in that area. They’re both really rusty, but she knows they’ll get there.

* * *

‘‘Karolina is on her way over, I didn’t tell her anything in the texts, I figure it’s best if she gets it all from us, so we can gauge her reaction on the spot. I mean, I really don’t think it was her, but we need to assess first hand before we say or do anything else. Did you call Shiv?’’

‘‘I keep getting her voice mail. Who knows, let’s deal with Karolina first, then we’ll move onto the Ginger Menace if necessary. At this point it doesn’t matter who the leak was just that it happened – if it happened.’’

Roman focuses on the surprisingly annoying tie knot he is trying to do but keeps failing. He is about to leave it, after all, they’re only having Karolina over, but Gerri swoops in, grabs the fabric and perfects the knot in record time. No surprise there, he thinks.

He smiles at her beautiful face, rosy lips just waiting to be devoured, sapphire eyes glinting and can’t help but thank, for the millionth time, whatever deity put her in his path. He kisses her deeply, his lips sliding further, onto her jaw line, her neck, and just as he is about to further his advances she stops him with a palm against his chest.

‘‘She’ll be here in twenty minutes, Rome.’’

He smirks.

‘‘You say that like you don’t know how good I can make you feel in under two. My performance review is yet due from my boss, but I have been told repeatedly that my work has been in the ‘‘excels’’ spectrum of achievement.’’

She grins, playing along.

‘‘Oh? Well, I don’t know, I’m afraid you’re going to have to be very demonstrative about it.’’

Without a word of warning, he takes her in his arms and she lets out an undignified little squeal she would later on deny ever happened.

He carries her to the master bath, setting her on the marble counter, her makeup clinking noisily, one of her fragrance bottles breaking in the process.

‘‘That perfume was expensive, Rome.’’, she tsks, not really caring, her hands carding through his hair. ‘‘And now the bathroom will reek for days to come.’’

‘‘So? Smelling your perfume every time I’m in here? The second best smell in the world.’’

‘‘Second best? And what’s the first?’’

She looks genuinely baffled, and he drops to his knees, lifting her skirt up slowly, palms grazing heated skin, then eagerly lifting her stockinged thighs onto his shoulders, nuzzling the already wet silk of her emerald green La Perla panties.

‘‘This.’’

* * *

She can’t help the almost cavernous, deep moan she lets out as he viciously pulls her panties off. His tongue makes contact with her folds, her clit pulsating erratically, and she is spreading her legs further, instinctively sliding herself closer to his mouth.

‘‘Fuck…fuckfuckfuck…’’

He takes his time, places soft, slow, dirty kisses on her and he is in heaven, feels like he could do this till the end of time as long as she is there, making those sounds and as long as he has a spare hand to occasionally tend to his own wayward dick, now painfully hard at the sight, taste and smell of her.

He moves upwards, to one of his favorite places on her entire body, the little divot on her left hip, gives it a little lick, a taste, hears her head thud against the bathroom mirror, a harsh exhale leaving her lips.

As he nuzzles her creamy inner thigh, the sensation of his beard must be overwhelming because she grabs a handful of his hair and yanks him away.

‘‘God…too…too close…’’, she breathes out, cheeks flushed, eyes almost completely black, looking down on his almost genuflecting form, goddess among mortals, and his heart stops for a moment.

‘‘I thought you wanted it quick, Molewoman?’’, he gathers his wits, finds the sass to reply, heart now back on track, beating deliriously in his ribcage.

She almost growls at him, he can feel it, but instead, she pulls on his hair even stronger and his dick feels like it’s gonna fall off, that’s how stiff he is.

‘‘Fuck, Gerri!’’, he groans, but resists the urge to stroke himself through his pants. This was about her.

‘‘Concentrate, you revolting maggot.’’, she says, in that bedroom voice he is a slave to. ‘‘Not too quick, and not too slow.’’

‘‘Well, aren’t you the Goldilocks of cunnilingus? You want your orgasm juuust right.’’, he smirks through the haze of arousal and instead of a reply, she presses his face into her cunt and thinks he may just die of pure happiness between her legs, then and there. Oh but wouldn’t that be a glorious way to go.

His tongue works so gently, so expertly against her clit, sinks so deliciously deep into her, he has to grab her hips so that they wouldn’t both slide to the floor, her reaction all the encouragement he needs.

Still, she is holding back, he knows, always too afraid of their secret getting out, even in the comfort of their own bathroom, and he makes it a mission to make her as loud as possible.

He pulls away slightly, just to observe his handiwork, her thighs glistening with her own juices, the sound of her keening, panting, undone for him, by him, almost enough to make him come on the spot.

He slides a reverent, caressing finger across her, delightfully swollen and ready for him, and she jerks so violently he has to grasp her more firmly with his free hand in order to keep her safely on the surface of the counter.

‘‘More…’’, she breathes out, eyes shut against the onslaught of pleasure.

He slides a finger in delicately, caressing and soothing and setting her insides on fire and she bites off the beginnings of a scream. He can’t have that. He adds a second finger, positioned just so, his tongue back on her, sucking her clit in rhythm with the movement of his fingers. Just a second more and he knows, he’ll wring the ecstasy out of her mouth too, and just as he thinks it, she impales herself further onto his fingers, her hips bucking wildly on the edge of the counter, slick thighs spasming uncontrollably in a sweet vise around his head.

‘‘ohgodohgodohgod, yes, yes, yes, yes YESYESFUUUUUUCK!’’

He keeps kissing and sucking lightly through the aftershocks of her orgasm, and moments later she comes back down to earth, her hand petting his hair gently, still catching her breath.

He leans his cheek against her thigh, feels her jolt slightly still, smirks proudly at her disbelieving, sated look.

‘‘Do I get bonus points for the audio presentation I just wheedled out of you?’’

That earns him the most effervescent laugh he has ever heard her indulge in, and he knows it’s a sight and sound that will forever be engraved on his very essence.

* * *

Logan calls again just as Roman is handing Karolina her coffee, almost dropping the mug.

‘‘Seriously, Ger, that ringtone, change it to the theme song from Barney or something, I can’t keep freaking myself out.’’

‘‘Oh, such a courageous man I married, what would I do without him?’’, she says without malice, smiling at Karolina, and Roman feels his face heat up at the familiarity, the teasing and the almost homey feel of the scene. They let the phone ring. They would answer in due course.

‘‘So, I know you most probably want to know if I told him. I am going to make it really quick and easy. No, it wasn’t me and I guess you’re just going to have to trust me on that. But, I do have a fair idea who did tell him, if, indeed this call of his is about that.’’

She pulls out a photo reel on her iPad, and sets it on the counter for Gerri and Roman to scroll through.

‘‘I had an inkling papa Roy would have a hard time with the severing of ties.’’

Gerri can’t help but agree. The way Logan meekly tucked his tail between his legs when they told him that for the good of his own company he can no longer be its face was way too good to be true. She just had better things to do, bigger fires to put out at the time to be able to care. Apparently, Karolina had the same thought.

‘‘I knew he would do something to keep tabs, on you two in particular, I just had no idea what. Apparently, he got to Oliver, your security guard. The problem is, I only got round to reviewing the material I got from the people I had keeping an eye on him when you texted just now, I had to keep pushing it back for when things at the office started easing up. Otherwise, I would have picked up on it sooner.’’

Roman eyes the photos of Oliver entering and exiting the Summer Palace, the time stamp reading exactly a week after he was hired as his security detail.

‘‘To be fair to Oliver and his motivation, I dug a little deeper, and it seems his kid is in hospital, she suffers from a type of rare blood disease and the family’s medical bills are through the roof. So, _if_ it was him, that’s why.’’

Roman’s anger subsides at that, he can’t fault a man for doing whatever he could to save his own family. He can, however, fault his father for exploiting that. It’s just another checkmark to add to Logan Roy’s never-ending scroll of sins.

He doesn’t even know when he decides to do it, but he knows he must have because his hand is wrapped around the iPad and in what he can only describe as an out of body experience, he sees himself hurl it against the hardwood floor, the screen breaking into a million pieces from the force of the contact.

Time speeds up and he is sucked back into his body again, turning quickly to apologize to Gerri and Karolina, rendered mute by the look of terror on Gerri’s face.

* * *

When she was five, Gerri’s father insisted she learn to swim. Not unlike Logan, Jossiah Kellman believed in the roughest approach to child-rearing, thrived in doling out ’’life lessons’’.

He had taken her to the lake near their home, violently hoisting her over his shoulder when she got too rowdy, wanting to go back.

She still remembers, to this day, the feeling of his flannel shirt under her hands gripping him like the lifeline he literally was at that moment, begging him to stop.

And when he threw her into the icy October water, she had resided in that fear, in that soundless, airless existence, for what felt like years.

The moment she witnesses Roman throw the iPad onto the ground and hears it shatter on impact, she is back at the office with Peter, right there in that lake with her father.

She knows Roman is terrified, sees it in his eyes, but so is she and she can’t help him now, because she has to help herself first in order to do that, and she doesn’t know how, her heart squeezing almost painfully in her chest, thrumming in unison with the almost electrically charged fog in her ears.

She wants to cry, so many years of suppressed tears clogging up her throat, flashes of Shiv and her mother-of-pearl gun, of a childless father bleeding out onto the floors of the building that killed his son invading her mind as she tries to blink them away.

The pinpricks start then, all the way from her feet, to her calves, taking possession of her entire body within seconds, and she starts to shake uncontrollably.

* * *

‘‘Gerri!’’

He takes her in his arms, rushing to the couch and settling her there, feels her ice-cold hands, tries to warm them up, looks up at Karolina, a pleading look on his face. Luckily, Karolina seems to know what’s happening.

‘‘She’s having a panic attack, Roman. Just talk to her, have her sit up a little bit more.’’

He helps Gerri recline against the cushions, kneeling in front of her, trying to give her space, her face unreadable, eyes unfocused, chest heaving with the lack of oxygen.

‘‘Karolina, what does she need, how can I help?’’

‘‘Just be there, panic attacks need to resolve themselves, just be with her.’’

‘‘Breathe, Gerri, come on, focus on my words.’’

She almost looks like she is trying to find him in a dark room, the sound of his voice the homing beacon. Finally, some amount of clarity seems to return to her eyes and he is so happy he thinks he could cry.

‘‘That’s it, yeah, I’m right here Ger, breathe with me, can we try that? Can we breathe together?’’

He takes her hand, gently presses her palm against his heart, hopes that his breathing and the sound of his own heartbeat might lead her fully back to him.

He sees some color returning to her cheeks as she puts a gargantuan effort into listening to him. She leans into him, hand still on his heart, his arm around her waist, foreheads pressed together.

* * *

Karolina gets ready to leave thirty minutes later, Gerri tucked up in bed with a hot water bottle.

‘‘Call me immediately if you need something, no hesitation. Promise me?’’

He nods, throat almost paralyzed, not trusting himself to speak.

‘‘It’ll be fine, Ro. Gerri is the strongest person I’ve ever known. But even strong people need help keeping it together sometimes. She’s very lucky she has you.’’

He just blinks, trying to keep his composure, not really feeling like he is doing much good in the situation, feels like all he is doing is floundering in the unknown. Karolina recognizes this, blessedly letting him be.

He resists the urge to rip the shirt of his chest, instead focusing on cleaning up behind them, sorting cups and mugs and plates in the dishwasher, needing a mindless task just so his brain doesn’t implode on itself.

He enters the bedroom, takes his clothes off and places them in a neat pile on the chair by the door. He gets into bed, his hand gently brushing a strand of blonde hair away from Gerri’s face.

‘‘Hey, Rockstar.’’, she whispers, a warm smile on her face, and he can’t help but kiss her, the contact timid and tasting thoroughly of home.

‘‘Hey, Molewoman.’’

She immediately moves further into his embrace and he rubs his palms up and down her arms and back soothingly, trying to warm her up.

‘‘Why didn’t you tell me?’’

She is quiet for while, sliding the hot water bottle further down the bed so she can get even closer to him. He lets her be, doesn’t press further, knows she’ll answer when she’s ready.

When she speaks, his heart constricts at the sound, small and fragile, feeling her pulling herself closer to his chest, his arms automatically hugging her deeper.

‘‘They were never this bad. And I mean it’s only been a week or so, not like I had dozens, maybe three or four. I would usually lock myself in the bathroom until I could breathe again. And besides, panic attacks, I’ve had them all my life, you tend to when you work for Logan Roy.’’

She is trying to play it off, he knows it, but he refuses to let her.

‘‘Jesus, Gerri, you can’t do that!’’

He regrets his outburst immediately, and holds her even closer, her cheek pressed tightly against his neck, not a hair’s breadth of space between them.

‘‘I’m sorry…but, put yourself in my position. I need to know these things. Please promise me you won’t do anything like this again, don’t keep things from me. I was brought up on secrets, and you know what that does, it’s poison, Gerri.’’

She knows what he means and knows he’s right.

‘‘We will get better at this Rome. Communicating. We already are.’’

He nods, brushing his nose against hers. Trusts her with his life. Because she _is_ it.

It’s a while before she is asleep, and that night and he refuses to let go of her until morning.

**PART 4**

The next morning, she wakes first, his shoulder under her cheek, her arms wound tightly around his torso. She moves away slowly, not wanting to wake him, smiling fondly at his disheveled hair and pillow-wrinkled cheek.

Moving a bit further away, she shudders when the rest of the frigid sheets hit her skin and she is almost tempted to burrow in the warmth of his body again.

Soon enough, though, she is ready to get up, greet the day, tries not to think of what or rather who else she needs to face. She looks back at his sleeping form.

He is almost all the way on her side, not willing to relinquish his presence in her bubble even in his sleep. A fact she is more than comfortable with.

He is so innocent, this young husband of hers, all crusty pup eyes, insecure gait and warmth. The utter devotion feels new, unused to it as she is, never having expected it from anyone. He wakes her with kisses brimming with loyalty, imprinted onto her heavy eyelids in the early Monday mornings and lazy weekend ones (when they can get those). It’s in every bite of tiramisu he gives her when she said she didn’t want any dessert, in the restraint he shows around the office, when she knows all he wants to do is lay her across her desk, explore her with his hands, split her open with ecstasy on his eager tongue.

She has no idea what she did in her life to deserve him.

* * *

In the bathroom, she trusts her morning skincare routine to wake her up more, mind already flipping through the various scenarios that might play out as the day progresses.

However, she knows she can make no decision until she’s spoken to Roman.

She dresses in soft cotton cream pants and a navy blue shirt, feeling better for having put herself together without much fuss. The aftershocks of a panic attack have been known to be much worse. She supposes she’s never had Roman before to make all the difference.

* * *

He wakes to the sound of her jewelry box being opened, sees her sitting at the foot of the bed, putting her necklaces and bracelet on.

‘‘Good morning sleepy head.’’, she smiles at him, and a weight he had no idea was even there is taken off his chest at the sight.

He smiles back, crawling to her end, placing his head in her lap, waiting for pets she knows he lives for. Sometimes she could swear that in another life he had been a cat.

‘‘Are you hungry?’’, she asks, fingers tracing his sharp jawline, high cheekbones, sliding down to his stubble, noting he needed a shave but that she most definitely also wanted him to try out this beard thing. He cuddles closer into her, yawning loudly.

‘‘A little. Could kill for a fucking Starbucks venti caramel macchiato right about now though.’’, he murmurs into her warm belly.

She grins knowingly.

‘‘Well, you’re in luck, because I had a _fucking Starbucks venti caramel macchiato_ doordashed not two seconds ago. Should be here in fifteen minutes.’’

‘‘God dammit, woman, every day you give me another reason to add to the never ending list entitled: ‘‘Why Gerri Kellman is the Love of My Life’’! ’’

He freezes, seeing the look on her face, clearly taken aback by his declaration. Her hand stops, fingers burying then into his hair gently.

‘‘Am I?’’

If she starts crying now, she will never stop, and she knows it, tries to keep it together.

‘‘Yes.’’, he answers simply.

He surges upwards, capturing her lips, licking into her mouth as he deepens the connection, soothing any and all worries she had ever felt, her arms winding round his neck.

She knows in that moment that, other than her girls, he is the only truly good thing in her life, the one thing that matters.

* * *

‘‘You up for a little trip to Westchester? I have a few things I need to get from the house before we go in this afternoon.’’

He nods as he finishes his peanut butter sandwich, licks a drop of raspberry jelly off his finger. She wipes a crumb of the side of his mouth, dropping a light peck on his lips on her way to the fridge.

He knows she probably has a plan in mind, doesn’t really let himself worry too much about Logan. That was the thing about Gerri, she gave him all the tools to untangle himself from the snarling roots of his heritage, the snarky comments, and the insults thrown his way. Where all of those things used to petrify him, used to stick, now - for the most part - they bounce off.

‘‘I am gonna take a quick shower, and then we can go. Thankfully, I gave Oliver the next few days off.’’

He still isn’t quite sure what to do or how to deal with his soon to be ex bodyguard, hopes Gerri has ideas about that, too.

* * *

When they arrive at her house, she leaves him on the first floor to peruse the rooms and her knickknacks, feline-like and easily entertained as he sometimes is, and heads for the basement.

On the way down she thinks about whether it’s time to put the house on the market. The girls never stay with her when they visit, they stay either at their friends’ places or an air B’n’B in the city and she has been spending all her time with Roman anyway since they got married, his penthouse being closer to the office, the location more convenient for everything they needed. And, she supposes, they need to decide whether they’ll be making his place their place when it’s time to make it official or whether they will be buying a new apartment.

She has no particular emotional connection to the Westchester house, no warm Christmases or Thanksgivings ever happened there, they always spent them either in Georgia with her in-laws or travelling with the Roys, on work trips.

When she finally locates the light switch she sighs at the amount of cobwebs gathered in the corners. The upkeep of the place was a bitch, too. Dodging a pile of boxes (the contents of which are definite question mark to her), she finally reaches her destination.

She fiddles with the lock on the secret panel door – taking a moment to really think about the absurdity of the fact that she is one of those people that even _has_ a secret compartment underneath the floorboards - and finally manages to pry it open, the hinges creaking with years of disuse.

A cloud of dust wafts into her face and she sneezes.

She picks up one of the several volumes she finds in the panel box, locks the coverlet and exits the basement.

* * *

He hears her footsteps coming up the stairs and smiles absentmindedly at the crystal sparrow figurine he found on her vanity. Must have been a present from her younger daughter, he thinks. He remembers the blonde mini-Gerri having a certain Snow White-like penchant for little flying critters.

‘‘I see you found Elgin. Julia gave him to me for Mother’s Day when she was ten. It broke a little two days later when she was roughhousing with Laura, and to this day, I don’t think she forgave her sister for that tiny crack in the left wing.’’

He smiles and looks out the window onto the sunny lawn, abnormally happy he guessed correctly.

‘‘What are they up to these days? Any plans for visits, say, around the next available holiday? So you could, oh I don’t know, introduce them to their new father? Maybe I can get them a puppy, buy their love?’’

Gerri can tell he’d been preparing himself for this conversation for a while, the way his hands can’t settle, running across all the items on her vanity, hyper-nerves jolting him from within.

’’A St. Bernard was always my dream dog, a big fuck-off beast, what do you think? Logan was always a ‘shoot animals’ rather than ‘have animals as pets’ kind of parental, so my dream was unfulfilled, but that doesn’t mean I can’t make someone else happy!’’

Gerri smothers a laugh and fondly thinks about whether he realizes just how much of a tell his chosen breed of dog was. He postures with emphasizing the size of the dog, not realizing what the breed is actually for, which is nurture and pure affection. And she knows him. Knows that that’s what actually appeals to him about a St. Bernard.

She sighs lightly, for the sake of the show he is giving her, throws him a stern look, knowing he reads through it very easily.

‘‘I think I’ll need a bit more than one visit to prepare them for the notion of _stepfather_. Especially if said stepfather is someone they used to play Marco Polo with when they were kids.’’

She smiles as she remembers how a sixteen year old Roman uncharacteristically once , for a full afternoon, entertained a six year old Laura and a three year old Julia in the pool at the Summer Palace while Baird and her were busy with Logan, working through yet another masterful hot mess he’d created.

‘‘Point taken. But, um…’’, he pauses, at a loss for how to continue. Luckily, she sees the train of thought as clearly as if it were her own.

‘‘Soon, Rome. Just be patient.’’, she sooths, palm coming up to caress the side of his neck, allowing herself the luxury of a single kiss before they have to get on with what they were there to do.

* * *

On the way out of the room, he spots a picture of the four of them, a family portrait of sorts. He stops, picks it up, quirks an eye brow in question.

‘‘Laura’s high school graduation’’, she answers, peeking over his shoulder to get a better look. ‘‘Jules insisted we took at least one picture together, and I have to say the photographer did a great job. You can’t even notice the level of homicidal I was at.’’

‘‘Care to elaborate, or is this one of those things best left alone?’’

‘‘Concise and to the point, I’m rubbing off on you.’’, she laughs as he approaches, grabs a handful of her ass as if to emphasize her point.

‘‘I should fucking hope so.’’

‘‘Down , boy. We have work to do today, then we can play.’’

He frowns, but obeys, hands sliding up, arms winding round her waist, her head settling on his shoulder.

‘‘And to answer your question, no, not best left alone. It’s simply not something worth discussing at all. Baird was a good father and that is the only credit I will ever give him. The fact he valued Shelly, his fucking tortoise more than me is the reason for my occasional murderous tendencies.’’, she almost whispers into his shirt and he feels his fists clench and unclench against the silk of her blouse.

‘‘I was sad when he died, yes, but that was more sorrow for another chapter of my life ending and not many more left to go.’’

His hands start moving at that, palms warming her suddenly shivering form. He lets her speak, doesn’t interrupt and she is so grateful to him for that. Because she knows what he would like to say then, that there were many more good things, many years ahead of her, ahead of them, and she doesn’t have the strength to think further on just how much time she has left with him, knowing the cold hard facts.

‘‘He was the one who thought it would be a good idea for me to go work for Logan.’’, she continues, changing the course of the conversation. ’’I was gunning for PGM. But Baird, he convinced me Logan would love me. And well, he wasn’t wrong.’’

The way she says it startles Roman and he backs away to look at her face.

‘‘Gerri, Dad never-…he never tried to-?’’

She smiles ruefully, knowing she would have to tread carefully around the topic, but at the same time glad to finally have someone to talk to about it.

‘‘Oh, he tried. He just never succeeded. I was already married to one narcissistic prick, did I really need another?’’

Roman realizes then that yes, Gerri had really once been the new thing. And that her own husband basically tried to pimp her out.

His heartbeat now frantic under the palm of her hand placed on his chest, she keeps hold of his gaze.

‘‘He never touched me. It was common for him to approach me, ask me to stay and work late, but I always made sure at least someone other than him was there. Frank was usually my designated buffer.’’ She always handled it ever so smoothly, pulverized the disgusting advances under her heel yet always managing not to hurt Logan’s precious ego. ’’Luckily, I was high enough in that chain of command for the rejection never to cause any serious repercussions.’’

‘‘You know that if you said the word now, I would fucking kill-’‘, she shushes him with a finger to his lips.

‘‘Calm down, Rome. I know. And just that very knowledge means more to me than you will ever know. But now is the time to be smart about it. We can’t be like the rest of his fucking ill-cast Shakespearean tragedy. Okay?’’

He pulls her in, kisses her forehead, and she lets him hold her for a while longer before she leads him out of the room and into the study.

* * *

‘‘Jesus.’’, he breathes out, sitting back in the leather wingback opposite her. He is staring at a thick ledger of all of his father’s wrongdoings. Or rather, the tip of that particular iceberg

‘‘Baird may have been a tortoise-loving lawyer with a striking resemblance to Truman Capote, but he had a good head on his shoulders when it came to self-protection. When he died, I became the single guardian of all of your father’s worst secrets. I never ever hoped to have to break these things out, but it does seem like Logan is going to force my hand. He thinks the cruises scandal is something he’s going to be able to weasel himself out of, and he may very well be right, his lawyers are very good. But not even that legal team is enough to plug all the holes I can rip through the Logan Roy dam.’’

He flips through the pages of the volume, seeing dates from as early as the late seventies, early eighties, all of Logan’s transgressions archived. Invoices that never should have been signed, payoffs with his father’s business DNA smeared all over them.

‘‘There’s a safety deposit box in a bank in Lugano, Switzerland with the digital copies. These are here as demo samples, parts of which we will scan as a little taster for Logan. If you are okay with us using this, that is?’’

He looks up at her, frowning.

‘‘Are you seriously asking permission?’’

She tilts her head, considering the question.

‘‘Not permission per se, Rome, but…he is family and this would have a ripple effect, and besides, I would never do anything with this information if you were in any way uncomfortable with it.’’

He briefly mulls over the merit of the idea that strikes him in the moment which is to pounce on her then and there but then remembers this was her annoying good-for-nothing dead husband’s study and quickly abandons the thought.

Instead he runs his hands through his hair, taking a lungful of air.

‘‘I don’t know what Logan is’’, he starts, getting up from his seat, rounding the oak desk to reach her side, leaning against the edge. ’’But as for family.... that’s you, Gerri. And I have a paper to prove it.’’ He grins, thinking back to the copy of their marriage certificate stored in his own study and the way he would stare at it in disbelief for minutes on end every day for the first two weeks after they came back. ‘‘I will follow you in anything you do, and take each piece of advice you have to give. Because, among other things, I would be a shitty husband to listen to blood over reason. Especially since all he ever gave was nothing more but a few loose teeth, debilitating emotional dysfunction and a claim to my entire being just because there was enough money involved for the bastard to feel entitled to do so.’’

She nods then, knowing he didn’t need her to say anything, just listen. She takes his hand and together they lock up and head back to the city.

* * *

The day at Royco is, per all standards, a light one and after a three pm meeting at Karolina’s office regarding what to do about a few of the anti-Waystar Twitter accounts that have popped up since Logan’s arrest that have been gaining traction, Gerri calls it a day, letting Karolina and Roman know she was headed out, for the benefit of Frank and the rest of the minions in Karolina’s office.

She watches Roman’s face fall, much like it does every time they have to pretend they’re not going home together, but she manages to not react. He would be out in five minutes either way, and they would be in the car on their way home.

* * *

Dinner is light, tomato soup with crackers and cheese, neither of them in the mood for anything heavier.

Afterwards, she saunters onto the bedroom terrace, leans against the railing, taking a deep breath. Logan hadn’t called and they had decided they would take the plunge and contact him first thing in the morning. Until then, she decides to relax.

Roman comes up behind her, his arms circling her waist, her own coming to rest on top of them as she leans her head onto his shoulder.

‘‘Wanna watch something?’’

She turns in his arms to hug him, needing the extra comfort of the embrace, shakes her head no into his chest.

‘‘Okay then, how about we get to know each other a little better tonight, Madame CEO?A question for a question kind of situation. Tit for that, if you will. You know we never really, technically, had a first date, so it could be fun. Normo material.’’

She laughs at that, the quintessential Roman thing to say. As is the tactic he is using to get her mind off their pending task.

‘‘Are you implying we need to know each other even further than your ability to get your tongue inside me so expertly I almost black out, Mr. Kellman?’’, she asks, lips quirking, holding back a full on grin, his palms charting an invisible map across her back and hips. He remains semi-serious, so she realizes this was something he feels strongly about, lets him explain.

‘‘It might be fun. We may know everything about each other that really matters but as for the simple stuff like favorite color, favorite artist, that kind of thing. Might take our minds off whatever the fuck will happen tomorrow. We are going all guns a-blazing, need I remind you.’’

‘‘Oh, no need for that, I assure you I am acutely aware.’’

‘‘Well, okay then. Shall I start us off?’’

She nuzzles into him, a relaxed exhale seeping into a nod of confirmation.

‘‘Favorite song?’’

She doesn’t remember the last time she thought about it, but she has an answer for him immediately, the feeling of a late blooming summer coming back to her, the last time she was single, alone, free to do whatever she wanted. Hated and loved it at the same time, stuck on an empty ranch in Kentucky, having just buried her father.

‘‘ _I Let The Music Speak_ , ABBA.’’

‘‘Oooh, a disco girl, alright, alright, I’m diggin’ it.’’

He reaches for his phone and plays the song.

They sway gently in place for a while to the lulling melody, him thinking it was a very un-Gerri-like song, though he also realizes that a Gerri Kellman taste in music, if anything, would be as eclectic as fuck so that attempt at compartmentalization is way off.

‘‘Why this one?’’

She adjusts in his embrace, letting the unique scent of him engulf her further before thinking of what to say, exactly.

‘‘In ’85, my father had just died, and the ranch was passed down to me. I had no idea what to do with it, but he was gone and I had to go there, deal with the funeral arrangements and all the legal stuff. He and I had a peaceful but at times quite resentful relationship.‘‘

She chooses not to go into detail and the extent of the vicious kind of resentment of Jossiah Kellman, just thinking about him hurt.

‘‘He could never forgive me for wanting more than the ranch life for myself. Add to that the fact that I was an only child and a girl, you can imagine the bitterness he felt at everything I ever did.’’

Roman holds her tighter then, but otherwise doesn’t react, letting her finish.

‘‘Two years before that, my mother died. So when I sat down at the back porch that evening after his funeral, with a sweet tea and the radio for company, the first song that came on was that one. And much as I liked to complain about what our connection was – or lack thereof - my mother and father, well, theirs was a love story for the ages. And that was one of her favorite songs, one she used to make him dance with her to every single time. So, I just, sat back and listened, and as the sun went down, I could smile for the first time in a long time due to a memory I had of him. So…yeah. That’s why that is one of my favorite songs.’’

She looks up, blushing, misty eyed and just a little bit shaken.

Roman catches her eye, leans in to kiss the single tear away.

‘‘Okay, my turn now…favorite actress?’’, she asks, shaking the sentiment of the first question away, resetting them to the original, lighter mood they created.

She sees him think it over and then, of course, in true Roman fashion, he takes her by surprise, just as she turns away slightly to take a sip of her wine, her free arm still wrapped around his torso.

‘‘Anne Bancroft.’’

And at that point, a healthy sip of Merlot goes spraying from her lips and onto his finely pressed shirt. She sputters, coughs, feels him move away to grab her a drink of water, and she takes a few swallows to clear her airways.

‘‘Jesus, Rome.’’, she can’t keep the laughter in, tears of pure hilarity running down her face.

‘‘What, what did I say?’’, he asks, smiling, genuinely confused, wiping a hand across the front of his completely ruined shirt.

‘‘Mrs. Robinson? Could you be more textbook?’’

He mulls it over as if it hadn’t crossed his mind, but then just shrugs.

‘‘Well hey, I mean, it worked out for me in the end didn’t it?’’, he says, surprising her by throwing her over her shoulder. She’s a trooper about it but still squeals a little when she thinks he might drop her, yells out as much.

‘‘Drop you? The most precious thing in my life and you think I’ll break you? Try again, Geraldine!’’

He lets out a vaudeville villain chuckle, plunging her into the soft sheets of their bed and she can’t see anything for a second, the curtain of her own hair obstructing her view.

In a moment, he is on top of her, gently swiping the strands away, noticing happily that the curl was back in most of them.

‘‘You know you really should just wear your hair natural. It’s beautiful and think of all the time you’d save in the mornings without having to straighten it. Time that could be better spent on different things.’’, he waggles his eyebrows, presses a kiss to her clavicle as she slides her fingers inside the back of his shirt, caressing the skin there. A lot of the time it wasn’t even about the sex, as mind-blowing as it was. It was about this moment right here. Their closeness, the unadulterated intimacy.

‘‘You mentioned that several times now, about the hair.’’, she says, and realizes she has an ugly question on her mind. A nagging concern she knows she shouldn’t voice.

He notices the sudden frown on her face.

‘‘Gerr? What’s wrong?’’

‘‘You won’t like it.’’, she says on an exhale, shaking her head, sliding up to lean against the headboard, with him following her lead.

‘‘Gerri…come on, tell me, what is it?’’, he presses, a worried look on his face.

She licks her lips and just goes for it.

‘‘The hair thing…it’s not because Tabitha has curly blonde hair, is it?’’

He looks like she slapped him. Mouth agape, expression frozen solid. But then he lets out one of his trademark giggles and falls back onto the mattress, the bed shaking with his laughter.

‘‘I don’t see how what I said is that funny?’’ she mumbles, a bit miffed now. She never should have touched on the topic.

‘‘Oh come on, Gerr. I am sure that if I gave it much deeper thought, I would even get angry, but I know that we all have our insecurities so I won’t overanalyze yours, ever – as unfounded as they are. But the fact that you think that I harbor some secret feelings for the woman who you actually witnessed rightfully call me, and I quote, ‘‘her eunuch bestie’’, so much so that I would plan to get you to wear your hair like hers is…you gotta see the ridiculousness in that?’’

Her mouth is set in a firm line and her arms are crossed and he thinks she has never looked cuter. He wouldn’t ever dare utter those words to her because he is rather attached to his testicles, but he can still think it, and let the feeling warm him from the inside over and over again.

He nudges her elbow with his head, wiggling himself under it and into her embrace like an overzealous labrador.

‘‘Tabitha is a pal.’’ He says, happily settled against her breasts, her palm now brushing his cheek. ’’Has been one even when we were quote unquote dating, which as you know ended right before Turkey – good god I was fucked up. But …the one and only curly blonde head of hair I have a fetish for is yours.’’

She knows it shouldn’t feel as romantic as it does, but she lets it engulf her, the silliness and the absolute devotion she feels coming off him in soothing waves. She can only hope she is able to convey the same sentiment back, because it lives in her so deeply she can’t remember a time she hadn’t felt it.

She looks down on his sleepy form and declares it’s time for bed. And as they go through their nightly routine together, she thinks they may just get the hang of this married couple business quicker than she thought possible.

* * *

The next morning, stare at their phones on the counter.

‘‘He called _me_ , Rome, I’m the one that needs to call him back.’’, she stresses, sounding decidedly like that is the last thing she wants to do.

‘‘Yeah, but we know that he is only gonna try and get to me through you, I shouldn’t let him even get a head start. Messing with him is our best opening gambit here, you know it is. He won’t expect a call from cunt-of-the-litter loser son, expecting me to hide behind your skirts.’’

He sees she is about to protest and defend him from himself, but he stops her before she is able to say anything.

‘‘Buuut, he has no idea that that particular Roman is long gone. And let me tell you, I cannot wait to introduce myself to him when we do go see him. I don’t think I have ever been more proud of my last name. Because fucking hell even if he doesn’t know about us, it’s time to tell him.’’

She has to hold in the completely overwhelming urge to fuck his brains out on the kitchen counter though she does archive the thought under ‘‘as-soon-as’’ in her mental filing cabinet.

‘‘Okay.’’, she concedes, nodding at him to dial.

‘‘Once more, unto the breach.’’, he mumbles and she laughs.

‘‘Quote Shakespeare at me one more time and I’ll sell you to Nan Pierce for a corn chip.’’

* * *

‘‘Hey Dad, long time no talk!’’

It’s the worst opening line ever, and Gerri can’t help but roll her eyes, getting an obscene gesture back from Roman for her troubles. She can’t hear Logan’s end of the talk, but she can surmise that it’s the same old bullshit, posturing and pleasantries for the sake of the rowdy masses; though she has no idea what masses he thinks he is entertaining now, locked up like a hermit in the Summer Palace waiting for the initial gavel to fall on his trial.

‘‘Yeah, she is as steady as she can be, given the circumstances. HMS Waystar is well above surface level, no worries, Gerri has it covered.’’

That surprises her. She thought Roman would stick to the usual faux pleasantries until he could find an opening to get them an invite to the palace.

‘‘Yeah well, Karolina says she is the CEO with the best public approval rate ever. Well, I mean, next to you, Dad, of course.’’

She can’t stop herself, goes for a semi-light smack to his gut for openly taunting the bear and he doubles over, which is when she realizes her aim was too low.

As he starts writhing on the floor of the kitchen, she grimaces in sympathy as she reaches for his phone. Luckily Logan is a one man show on the other end of the line so she is able to get to it in time to put him on speaker.’’

_‘‘…So, anyway, I was wondering if the marvelous duo would like to come to the house, have a bit of a chat, let me in on the newest happenings? Maybe dinner?’’_

She realizes Logan’s waiting for an answer, but Roman is still _non compos mentis._ Thinking on her feet, she grabs his face, squeezes his jaw, and that distracts him from the worst of his pain.

He gets it together enough to respond.

‘‘Sure thing Dad, how does tomorrow work for you, say…seven pm?’’

He is struggling to keep his breath even, and she folds her legs under herself, next to him on the floor, lips against his forehead, silently apologizing. He then leans into her shoulder, and her arms go round his waist.

_‘‘Okay, son. Looking forward to it.’’_

‘‘Right back at ya. I’ll let Gerri know and um…see you tomorrow. Toodles!’’

It takes all of his willpower to squeeze the final word out, and both of them are more than relieved when they hear Logan hang up.

‘‘Jesus, Gerr!!! What’d you do that for???’’

She gives him the evil eye and he jokingly cups his hands in front of the affected area, scooting away, wincing slightly at the movement.

‘‘Sorry! But you were poking the wasp’s nest, what the hell were you thinking?!’’

He takes a deep breath, which seems to scatter the residual pain away. He shakes his head in disbelief smiling lovingly at her.

‘‘You still don’t get it, do you? The power you have over him. I mean, even if he was still Logan Roy, CEO of Waystar and you were still just his General Counsel…you have always held the power to bury him, even if the smoking gun ledgers didn’t exist. It’s time you acknowledge that. You are light years ahead of anyone in that company, Logan Roy first and foremost.‘‘

He gets up from the floor slowly, reaching out a hand to help her up as well. ‘‘You made me see I can be better than I thought I was, why can’t you show yourself just how amazing you are? Let it own you! For once, let the inner narcissist out to play a bit, we all have that little fucker lurking. I promise you, it’ll be fun.’’

She smirks, considering his words, acknowledging their heft. As per usual, as of late, he was right. She just has to give herself permission to acknowledge her own desire to be vocal about it.

She turns away, grabbing her glass of bourbon, leading the way to their bedroom. She adds some sway to her hips, deciding the kitchen counter sex might be a bit too adventurous for her and that she’d much prefer an orgasm covered in sheets that smell like him.

She hears him trotting along like the horny pup he is, the clink of his belt and pants hitting the floor somehow making her insanely wet.

The burn of the liquor spreads through her chest in sync with him sliding into her, and it feels like she hit the jackpot in life.

* * *

‘‘I don’t know about this one, it makes me feel like Morticia Adams.’’

He thinks about it, walking in a circle around her as she twists every which way to get a better view of her body in a form fitting, off the shoulder black Valentino dress, resting slightly below her knees, finished off with a pair of black Louboutin stiletto heels. Her feet are already killing her but there is no way she was going to meet Logan without some form of weapon she could potentially jab into his throat. The stilettos fit both the fashion and murderous bill.

‘‘Maybe a Lauren Bacall meets Morticia crossover situation, for sure, and you know me, I was always into that spooky, kinky shit with a hint of film noir.’’, he murmurs into her neck, hugging her waist, turning them to face the mirror.

‘‘Oh, well, I suppose it’ll look better once I’ve squeezed into the spanx. Though I don’t enjoy the prospect of being at fifty percent lung capacity for an entire afternoon.’’

He frowns in confusion but when clarity hits he is very vocal about his feelings on the matter.

‘‘Is that what those fucking things are called?’’, he asks, annoyance written plainly on his features. ‘‘No, Ger, I’ve watched you struggle with those things way too many times, and I’ve always held back. Not this time. They are a menace to society and women’s health.’’, he protests.

‘‘Roman, if I can stand wearing them you can stand seeing me in them.’’

‘‘But you don’t need it, you look great. You have all the curves in all the right places, and-’’, he loses track as his eyes get stuck on the slight cleavage on display in the new dress, and she clears her throat, feeling utterly debauched and all he did was look. Gathering just enough will power to swipe the lust to the side, she focuses on the choice of earrings.

’’I haven’t been without it for years, at least for formal dress. Since I gave birth to Julia.’’

‘‘You mean to tell me you’ve been suffocating in those things for well over twenty years?!’’

He sits back at the end of the bed, watching her go through her emeralds and rubies, finally settling on a pair of sapphire studs, matching the sparkle in her eyes so well he has to take a deep breath to stop himself from undressing her and making love to her over and over until they were both too exhausted to remember what they were supposed to be doing.

‘‘Okay, let me make you a deal. You forego the fucking thing this time, and I make it worth your while when we get back?’’

Warming up to the mischievousness in his voice (though if she was being completely honest, it never did take much) she smiles at him through the reflection in the mirror.

‘‘Really? Tell me more.’’

‘‘Well, if you promise not to wear it, after this dinner from hell, I will do my very best to fuck you so good you will forget any and all grief my miserable DNA provider may cause.’’

She laughs heartily at his turn of phrase, adding a drop of perfume to both her wrists, her neck and the backs of her knees.

‘‘Much as I would love for you to orgasm me into amnesia, I think I might need to work up to not wearing what is essentially my armor, with a dress like that.’’ She sees him start to rebel against her words and she holds up a finger to shush him. ’’But, I will pick a dress of a looser fit that doesn’t need it. I am used to wearing the spanx with all my dresses, but in a looser one, with a different waistline, it won’t feel as terrifying. How’s that?’’

He smiles, genuinely thrilled she decided to listen and nods fervently.

‘‘Baby steps. I like it. We’ll have you weaned off the damned Erzsebet Bathory torture device in no time, you’ll see!’’

The mirth in both their laughs echoes in the master bedroom and the tail end of it follows them all the way into the car on the way to the Summer Palace.

* * *

In the end she chose a navy high waist lace patchwork cocktail dress she bought ages ago but somehow never wore. The lack of spanx is outwardly completely unnoticeable and just because she can enjoy such a luxury now, she inhales deeply.

The privacy partition between them and the driver is up and she is just brave enough to hold Roman’s hand, that being the limit of her courage for PDAs, especially after the pictures that were almost leaked. But, she supposes, it’s like he said. Baby steps, in all things great and small.

* * *

The car ride is as uneventful as car rides can get, until it isn’t. They’re about thirty five minutes out from the Summer Palace and Gerri, with her hand still in Roman’s, notices his breathing change pattern.

‘‘Jonathan, could you find a space to pull over, quickly please.’’, she instructs their driver, swallowing down the kernels of fear bubbling in her throat.

As the car swerves to the first available emergency shoulder, she reluctantly lets go of Roman’s hand and gets out of the car. In a flurry of motion, the fabric of her dress getting caught in the wind, she reaches his side of the car, opens the door and leans down to make eye contact.

He is looking straight ahead, his hands now clutched in front of him, knuckles white with the pressure of his own grip.

‘‘Honey, look at me.’’, she whispers, hand reaching out to tilt his chin gently in her direction. His stare is almost completely vacant and his forehead and upper lip beaded with sweat.

‘‘Come on out, you need air.’’

Wordlessly, he obeys, and she watches him walk away from the car, hands buried in his hair. She doesn’t crowd him, knows anxiety in all its shapes and forms, this one seeming like a viper ready to strike any time its existence is threatened, so she knows she has to let him ride out the first stages.

But, it gets harder, watching him, helpless, alone in his fear, even though she is right there. Still, she lets him work through it, seeing his chest expand with the struggle for oxygen, wondering if maybe she should get him some water.

And before the train of thought is over, he is in front of her, eyes wide and pleading.

‘‘I just-’’, he stops. Starts again only to shut his mouth as soon as he opens it.

‘‘Hey, Rome, look at me’’, she tries to make him focus on her, take his mind of the horrid thoughts of Logan she knows are always around, festering in his brain like an open sore, pushes down her own overwhelming desire to stab the man in the gut with a dull kitchen knife. She cups his face in her hands, his coming to rest on her wrists. ‘‘We don’t have to do this now. We don’t have to do this _ever_. We are not at his beck and call, and we can just get back in the car, turn around and go home or do whatever the fuck else we want to do.’’

The word _home_ is what ignites the warmth in him and it starts seeping back into his icy limbs. He struggles not to blink because if he does he’ll start crying and _‘‘ Roys don’t cry!’'_ .

Except he isn’t a Roy, he is a Kellman, he is hers, and she is his haven, and with her he can do anything.

He hasn’t cried since he was nine and six-year-old Shiv, true to her name, literally shivved him with a rusty bottle opener, and even then, true to form, Logan had shouted at him to quit his whining. Called him a pathetic moron.

It feels more than cathartic, more than what the movies show you and less glamorous and just bigger than life because the fury and anger in his chest is diminishing with each violent sob, and soon he is on his knees in front of Gerri, in the dirt of the shoulder of the highway in the afternoon of a scorching summer that seems to either be killing or reviving them. Maybe both.

He hugs her legs, burying his face in the fabric of her dress, feeling her maneuver herself down onto the ground with him without hesitation, has no option but to let her hold him, his own body refusing to take any direction that isn’t hers.

She pulls him into an embrace, and as the sounds of his grief leave them, he basks in this, the knowledge that this woman, this glorious blue-eyed corporate maven, who, let’s face it, could have picked just about anyone to share her life with, chose him. He breathes her in, places a soft kiss on her bare shoulder, annoyed at himself for the fact that his tears and snot are probably ruining her outfit.

‘‘I’m sorry.’’

His voice is smaller than she’d ever heard it and despite the sadness, she smiles into his hair, palms stroking down his back.

‘‘Never tell me you’re sorry for _feeling_ , Roman. Why would I ever deny you something so human?’’

Which is when she remembers every single person in his life had done so, and holds him closer, wishes she hadn’t opened her stupid mouth.

He lifts his head and she sees a blush had spread to his entire face. She wipes the tears from his heated cheeks, in awe at how absolutely beautiful he is.

‘‘I love you.’’, she says simply.

He wipes a hand across his face before kissing her, swallows her slight, surprised laugh.

‘‘I love you, too. More than you will ever fucking know.’’

Picking themselves up from the ground, they get back in the car.

‘‘Ma’am, what’s the plan?’’, Jonathan asks, readjusting the rearview mirror.

She looks at Roman, letting him make the call.

‘‘We’re making good time, but I need to use the restroom, can we find a gas station nearby so I can do that and get a soda or something?’’

‘‘There’s one coming up in about five minutes, sir.’’

Roman nods, and as the engine starts, his stomach settles back in its place, lungs functional and accounted for. Gerri leans her whole body into his now, her head on his shoulder, his arm around her, no point in raising the partition or trying to hide from the driver who had just seen one of their most intimate moments in its entirety. She chooses to roll the dice, put her trust in Jonathan’s seemingly agreeable personality and his designed-to-be-airtight NDA.

* * *

A summer rainstorm the likes of which Gerri thinks she hadn’t seen in her entire lifetime hits them just as they arrive at the gates of the property.

They manage to get to the front doors without getting absolutely soaked, but as they get inside she is seriously considering taking Roman’s advice and wearing her hair in its natural curly pattern for the foreseeable future, she cannot keep having to deal with the frizz of her blowout.

BREAK

‘‘Fuuuuck me…Gerri, tell me you’re seeing what I’m seeing.’’

She is too stunned to say anything, looking for any sign of life.

‘‘Maybe a _folie a deux_ situation? I feel like Miss Havisham and Jack Torrance are about to form a murderous duo and disembowel us on this here floor, what the fuck is happening?’’

The house is plunged in darkness (probably a power outage due to the storm, Roman thinks) and almost all of the furniture is cloaked in white sheets. Gerri does realize, rationally, that after the house was last shut Logan only bothered to have the help make functional only those rooms he used. But still, the feeling was eerie.

Roman spins in dramatic circles as he goes, peeking into each room, making sure a vagrant or a Nan Pierce agent hadn’t made the sheets their home for the night.

‘‘I really think staying in prison while he waited for the trial would have been a better call for him, and cheaper. The twenty mill he paid in bail could have been better used to pay the therapist sessions of anyone he ever crossed paths with.’’

Gerri almost shushes him, the house, with its new _Halloween-in-late-July_ look setting her more on edge than she already was.

‘‘Yeah well, we could never rely on common sense with him now could we?’’ she says, angry at herself for lowering her voice. Logan was going to hear it all at one point, one way or another.

‘‘We can safely say Marcia is not here. Bye bye, buffer.’’

Gerri scoffs.

‘‘She never cared for me much and Kendall was her favorite of all your siblings, do you really think she would have served any kind of purpose?’’

Roman shrugs, seeing her point, sauntering up the stairs, Gerri following close behind, resisting the urge to grab his hand.

* * *

They finally find Logan in the library on the first floor, surrounded by several lit candles and ghost like figures, all of the furniture but the coffee table, the drink station and three armchairs draped in protective covering.

‘‘Dad? What’s with the Agatha Christie murder-mystery vibe, are we testing a new haunted house situation for parks I’m not aware of?’’, Roman says by way of greeting as Logan looks up from his phone, a tumbler of scotch in his hand.

‘‘The fucking help was too loud, so I had them expedite the process of preparing the house. Not like I can’t move a few fucking sheets about if I need to. I just wanted the fuckers off the property. Sit down’’

Gerri takes one of the chairs and Roman sits in the remaining one to her left. It feels a bit like coming to your own arraignment, she muses. She also recognizes how both her and Roman seem to have slipped easily into their previous submissive roles in front of Logan, the notion annoying her beyond belief. Old habits die hard, but it is most certainly not impossible to kill them, she vows to herself.

She feels her teeth grind and tries to relax her jaw. Logan noticed everything and she was damned if she was going to let him get a head start without the conversation even having started properly.

‘‘So, the drive over was okay?’’, asks Logan, downing what’s left of his drink, already pouring himself another. Gerri is beginning to realize no actual dinner was ever planned and stops herself from looking around for possible snipers or booby traps, because she feels decidedly set up.

‘‘Um, yeah. Had a bit of a hiccup on the highway, but then we were good.’’, Roman answers, eyes drifting briefly to hers, so expressive in their gratitude she has to look away for fear of reacting too openly.

‘‘So, Roman says you wanted to chat?’’, she finally says, speaking up only when she felt for certain that her voice wouldn’t crack with the anger and a good dose of that ancient fear he’d embedded in her the first time they met.

‘‘Yeah. Because I have been told by my lawyers that they have a solid case, and so I’m thinking, when this whole thing wraps up, I am going to need to start building my access route to Waystar. Get the board lubed and ready for my return as CEO.’’

Roman stops himself from reacting, crosses his legs, as Gerri gets up and turns to the drinks cart, pouring them both a drink. Bourbon. As she hands him his glass, the smell makes him semi-hard in an instant, memories of the night before and of the aura of _Four Roses_ on their breaths coming back to him along with images of her writhing under him, him deep inside of her.

‘‘So soon? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love that they’re optimistic, but the trial hasn’t even started yet.’’ Roman asks innocently, knowing his father was goading them into cracking first.

Logan leans back, and Gerri notices his glass shaking slightly in his hold. He looks like an impotent Zeus salivating over his shattered Mount Olympus, the empire that was taken from him, the only child of his he ever really loved. She allows herself a pleased smile she hides behind her glass.

‘‘Roman’s right, Logan, you don’t want to scare the board off. ‘‘, she says, shaking her proverbial wings out, prepared to take flight, let him really see her for the black crow he takes her for. _Let the fucking mask drop Logan_ , she thinks, _I haven’t got all night, and I would very much like to go home and fuck my husband into our mattress._

‘‘You’re looking especially lovely today, Geraldine. ‘‘, Logan declares out of the blue, Roman thinks, but Gerri simply blinks at the use of her birth name.

‘‘I think it’s the executive chair, does wonders for my back, helps me sleep better at night.’’, she spits out, equally unfazed.

Roman stares into his glass, letting the two duke it out. He is proud of her for taking his advice, happy to observe that gorgeous inner narcissist of hers run circles around Logan.

‘‘I should think that sitting on a certain executive’s _crotch_ is what made that possible, Gerri?’’

And just like that, the other shoe drops. Gerri is unbothered and Roman simply takes a long drag of air, leaning more comfortably into the cushions of the chair.

‘‘There you are Logan, I was beginning to think you’d abandoned us.’’, she says, letting the ice at the bottom of her glass slide onto her tongue, then feels it cracking satisfyingly under her teeth.

The sound seems to unnerve Logan as his eyes become thunderous.

‘‘You thought I wouldn’t find out?’’, he asks, voice low in that particular Logan way she knows he believes works on them still. She could almost laugh. Seems her old habit of fearing him had died a while ago, and she looks to Roman to check on his. When he only seems to return her sentiment, she turns back to Logan, satisfied.

‘‘I can’t say we once thought of you during the whole thing. Otherwise our sex life wouldn’t be what it is, isn’t that right, Roman?’’, she asks innocently, leaning her chin against the back of her hand.

Roman giggles in response and Logan stands up, smacking his fist against the coffee table.

‘‘Enough! You thought you could get away with fucking my own son behind my back?! Taking over my entire company, making me feel like some reality show reject while you continued to run the empire I built?!’’

He’s almost foaming at the mouth and Gerri and Roman both remain unmoving, Gerri only making proper eye contact with Logan once she’s sure that his spittle won’t get anywhere near her.

‘‘Are you going to tell us why we’re here or do we have to keep at this charade?’’

‘‘I’m going to tell you what I want. I want you to fuck off out of my company, leave my son the fuck alone and pave my way back to my own conglomerate. ‘‘

‘‘And if she doesn’t, Dad, what then?’’

Roman is on his feet now, too, and she needs to haul him back before things get physical. He has enough pent up rage for his father’s insults of yore that he would be able to deck him so hard the old man never got back up again. And much as she’d like Logan Roy six feet under, she would still very much like her husband to remain a free man.

‘‘Roman, sit down.’’

He does, and Gerri watches how Logan’s disbelief at the amount of power she has over Roman snaps his mouth firmly shut.

‘‘Let me guess,’’, she continues. ‘‘You are ready to sacrifice Waystar if I don’t budge? You are prepared to sink it by revealing that Roman and I are together, by sullying my name, by further plunging the newly-risen stock prices?’’

Logan smirks pitifully through his rage, hand twitching by his side. She sees it happening before he himself realizes he is doing it. She is on her feet so fast Roman doesn’t even have time to react, sees his father lift his hand towards him, the backhanded slap rearing up, and then Gerri standing between them.

Logan’s reflexes kick in when he registers her, and he stops himself, his entire face flushed with anger, Roman pulling Gerri away, stomach in knots at the mere possibility of Logan’s hand making contact with her. She untangles herself from Roman’s arms, faces Logan again.

‘‘If you so much as think about touching him ever again Logan, I swear to you - you’ll see a whole different side to me. I am done watching from the sidelines as you abuse him. I’ll be fucking damned if I’ll let you hurt him any more than you already have.’’, she spits out, fury rising to levels of homicidal, her nails digging painfully into the flesh of her palm.

‘‘And let me tell you something, else, too, Logan. The media mogul you think you are, the magnate of great reach and greater legacy? That man doesn’t exist. Your horde of yes-men made him up, and fed your ego, teaspoon by teaspoon, so you would keep them afloat so that their own yes-men could do the same for them. You built your vile reputation through boar-on-the-floor after boar-on-the-floor and we let you. We let you because we were weak, and I am only just doing what I should have done after that first time you ever humiliated me in front of all my new coworkers.’’, she says, voice rising in volume, feeling something coming to spew out of her, something she swore she would never drag into the light of day ever again.

‘‘After I kept on repressing it all these years, it’s been coming back to me in waves, Logan! All the resentment, all the fury, all the hatred I always rightfully felt for you. I was ready to be the best legal counsel I could be. Baird convinced me that it can only be a good thing, even though, quite reasonably, I had my doubts. What happened that night, Logan, do you remember? After we all went to sleep, covered in your piss and vinegar, counting our blessings at having escaped what I imagine only fraternity initiates go through?’’

Logan looks away, and Roman stares at Gerri, notices the tears on her face, completely confused and out of his depth, heart racing a mile a minute. He reaches out for her hand and she takes it blindly, their connection almost magnetic.

‘‘Gerri-’’, Roman starts, but she shakes her head, which silences him.

‘‘Send it to him.’’, she orders, letting go of his hand, sitting back in her seat, wiping her eyes dry.

A few short moments later, Logan’s phone lights up with an e-mail notification on the floor where it had landed during his tantrum.

‘‘What’s going to happen is the following. You will remain at a solid distance, at all times, from anything Waystar related. You will not contact Roman. You will continue to inhabit this Purgatory you created for yourself and wait for your trial to be over. After that, no matter the outcome, you will make yourself scarce; try to save what little face you have left, if any. And if you don’t, I swear to you, I will burn your entire legacy to the ground and your son will be my second in command, just as he has been for a while now. And we will both have zero regrets about it.’’

He holds her stare, and finally turns his eyes to his phone, his face going as pale as the sheets surrounding them.

‘‘What you’re looking at is a product of a different mistake you made. Baird was a meek little employee, wasn’t he? Good for a drunken binge, for solid legal advice, even better for discussing the new tail around the office, chat about which of you got to fuck the new intern first. The man may have had a wandering dick to rival that of Bill Clinton, but that really doesn’t mean you should have underestimated the sense of self-preservation he had. The day for payback is today. Try me, Logan. Try me and watch another five hundred gigabytes of incriminating material funneling to the press and the feds.’’

‘‘You little bitch.’’, Logan manages to hiss out, and Roman jumps out of his chair, Gerri getting up too, needing to keep Roman in check for both their sakes.

‘‘Don’t EVER fucking insult her again unless you want me to send all the shit we have on you to the authorities right now.’’

Logan hurls the tumbler onto the floor, and Gerri flinches.

‘‘You moron…’’, he says, voice a drunken whisper. ‘‘You wretched little orphan boy. I always suspected you weren’t really a Roy, and now my suspicions are confirmed, you spineless little fuck-’’

Roman can’t help but laugh in his father’s pathetic face. It feels so good. It feels horrible.

‘‘Well good thing I truly haven’t been a Roy for almost three months now. Best three months of my fucking life!’’

He lifts his hand to the waning candlelight, letting Logan get a good view of his wedding ring.

‘‘I wasn’t sure if you knew about the actual marriage, too, but it looks like whoever your undercover agent was has failed to inform you about this little fact. Nice to meet you sir, my name is Romulus fucking Kellman! Oh, and - my wife and I will be taking your entire fucking company now, please and thank you.’’

He finishes his drink and turns to leave, Gerri immediately falling into stride beside him. In sync as ever, they leave behind a raging old man and a soulless house, the storm having cleared for their journey home.

* * *

They don’t speak on the way back, both their heads filled with thoughts and blessedly empty at the same time. She leans against him again, closing her eyes, feels her body give in under the weight of stress and emotion, falling asleep to the movement of Roman’s fingers in her hair and his lips at her temple.

* * *

Roman tries not to twist and turn in bed too much, well aware she needed her rest. At 3 am , he finally gives up trying to sleep and goes to the game room, thinking maybe a game of Fortnite or some crap like that might take his mind off things.

The alcohol cabinet gets to him first, derailing his plan, and he takes a few gulps of Grey Goose straight from the bottle as he lowers himself onto the plush couch.

She is hurting so much, and he has absolutely no idea what he can do to help. He feels like a waste of space. The look on her face when she confronted Logan about whatever there was in the past is something he will never be able to forget.

He twists his wedding ring around his finger, the warm metal conducting a soothing vibration he knows he is imagining, but takes comfort from nonetheless.

Sitting the bottle on the side table he turns on the TV, trolls what’s on offer for mind-numbing background light. For a while he sits there sipping on his drink. Soon enough, he falls asleep to a muted episode of Veep.

* * *

He comes to with the worst pain in his shoulder and cotton mouth sensation that makes him gag. He looks to the bottle of vodka, annoyed at his choice. Vodka was mostly her thing, why would he even pick it? Duh, his brain supplies – because vodka is her thing.

He almost laughs at himself, but decides against, it, the throbbing pain behind his eyes announcing itself, viciously rivaling the shoulder ache. He pads to the bathroom, mindful of waking her, downs three Advil and steps in the shower.

* * *

A ray of sun filtering through the curtains decides to annoy her into rousing.

Turning to her right, she pulls the covers tighter round her body, disoriented, but then the events of the previous day come rushing back all at once and for a moment or two she feels off balance.

When she finally gets her bearings she lifts up a little, leans against the headboard, rubs her eyes, the sleep in them persistent.

She tries to figure out how Roman managed to get her all the way to their bedroom from the car without waking her, even managing to take her clothes off. She notices he didn’t go as far as putting her in pajamas and she lays back down, burrows more closely into his side of the bed, relishing the sensation of silk against naked skin.

She hears the shower turn on, briefly thinks about joining him, but instead chooses to stay where she is.

He will have questions she needs to answer. That was the deal, wasn’t it, this marriage thing? She manages to smile through the remnants of yesterday’s awakened grief.

It was a sad, soul-shredding story no one but herself, Baird and Logan knew about and it was time to share it with someone who she knew would take her side. Not that she needed it, but the feeling of not having to fight the windmills anymore in her own heart would be a breath of fresh air, much like a lot of the things are, in her new life as Mrs. Kellman Roy.

She lets herself sleep a bit longer, hugging his pillow close.

* * *

She is still asleep as he walks out of the bedroom toweling his hair dry. He puts on his robe and heads to the kitchen to make breakfast. A text from Tabitha comes through on his phone.

_‘‘Hey, fresh prince of Waystar, wanna hang out tonight? It’s been months, and I miss our chats, the party gal in me misses the party gal in you!’’_

He smirks, typing a reply immediately, not particularly wanting to call her, but letting her know he would be in touch soon.

They ended it on great terms, but just as much as he wants the world to know he is married now, he wants to have Gerri to himself, too, in their own little bubble for as long as he can, and if he meets with Tabs, he will spill his guts. Oh, the duality of a spoiled little heir who wants it all! He shakes his head, presses send and turns to the fridge to get the fruit and mascarpone, the makings of Gerri’s comfort meal.

* * *

Assam. Her favorite tea. She can feel smell the steam of it trying to pull her out of her hangover-like sleep, and she cracks one eye open, locating the source of the wonderful fragrance, along with the view of a smiling Roman, sat on the side of the bed, holding the biggest mug she’d ever seen.

‘‘I think I may just have to marry you again, just for that tea you’re holding.’’

He smirks, helping her sit up, fluffing several pillows for her to lean up against. As he hands over the mug, he steals a quick, deep kiss, and she has to ask herself, yet again, how he manages to take her breath away almost every time their lips meet.

Shaking her head fondly, she takes a first sip, the tendrils of warmth infusing her limbs almost immediately.

She moans in delight, and Roman lets his head fall back dramatically.

‘‘You keep that up, and soon enough these sheets will be tea-soaked and I will be so balls-deep in you the only thing that will be able to tear us apart will be severe dehydration.’’

She hiccups as she swallows the tea, swatting his shoulder.

‘‘You and your Roman-isms, there should be a class on them at every major university in America, I swear. Literal poetry, Brat 101.’’

‘‘That’s me!’’, he calls out on his way to open the curtains all the way.

‘‘What time is it?’’

‘‘About seven thirty. I already called Karolina, let her know we will be a little late, told her to cover for you. If you’re late without a valid reason, that’s weird, if I’m late – well, I’m Roman.’’

‘‘Touché.’’

They’re both silent now, him nudging a tray of food her way, watching her nibble on toast and strawberries.

‘‘I think I could stay in this room with you forever.’’, he says after a long quiet moment.

She finishes her tea, taking his meaning in, runs her hands through her hair. Then she beckons him closer.

‘‘Come here.’’

She nudges the remains of the breakfast to the bottom of the bed as he crawls into her arms. She lies back, holding him close, hand sliding up and down his arm, occasionally squeezing the muscle of his aching shoulder, massaging the pain away.

‘‘Earlier, you winced when you pushed the tray in my direction.’’, she answers his unasked question

If they were ever robbed of their ability to speak, Roman thinks, nothing whatsoever would change in their relationship, she was that good at reading him, anticipating his every mood, responding to and weaving her way through his mannerisms. She was right before, when she said they were getting better at communicating.

‘‘I slept in the game room.’’

‘‘Ah.’’

She places a soft kiss to the top of his head, and he presses his lips to her chest, letting the thud of her heartbeat soothe the nerves in his gut. Finally, he plucks up the courage to start the conversation.

‘‘How bad is it?’’

She doesn’t ask what he means, knows perfectly well.

‘‘Bad.’’

She doesn’t know when they started, but the tears are already there, sliding off her cheeks and into his hair, onto the back of his neck.

He must feel them because he hugs her firmly, arms twining softly around her waist, face buried under her chin.

‘‘I’m here.’’

* * *

‘‘We were in a castle on Lake Como for the retreat that year, 1995. I had just made the senior legal team, after Logan convinced me to take his offer and ‘‘work on my ambition’’. There was a major takeover about to go down, and we were using the retreat as a type of workshop. ‘‘

She pauses and he uses the moment to switch their positions, getting under the covers with her, her head against his chest, her hand tracing patterns across his stomach. He thinks she’s spelling out letters, but he focuses on the story, letting the slight movement of her fingers calm him.

‘‘I don’t even remember what bit of the whole thing made him so angry, but it was your usual boar-on-the-floor ordeal. Except it was my first. Baird never thought to mention it, most likely because he’d never been the target of any of Logan’s psycho rants, just the spectator.’’

He feels her swallow hard, buries his fingers in her hair, combing through the strands.

‘‘It was…worse than Hungary. Much worse. If Hungary was mach five in intensity, this was a ten and beyond. There were glasses shattering against walls, food all over the hardwood floor of the ballroom and he had the doors shut physically from the outside, so even if we wanted to escape we wouldn’t have been able to. He could have easily killed someone in there and still the surviving rest would have helped him bury the body, that is how cult-like the whole thing was. You know yourself that when he gets like that there’s no stopping him.’’

She thinks back to the moments right after Logan had the doors locked. When he set his eyes on her, he always looked like a wolf being denied its prey. The thing is, she was never blind to Logan’s fascination with her, the only woman who seemed impervious to his money and power, the one woman on his payroll whose attention he had to genuinely work for. Insofar as he was her boss, her loyalty was always there, as much of it was written into her contract as required, but beyond that, he would always try to wriggle his way into her confidence, hoping it led to her bed. Luckily, it would seem that the passage of time made her less of a piece of eye candy to the letch and more of an asset. As much as the word ‘‘luckily’’ could be used with regards to anything Logan-adjacent.

But that night, she felt, knew for certain, that all the frustration, all the anger percolating around all of them in that room was about her. Sure, he hadn’t ended up making her battle it out on the floor in what he called the endgame, the disgusting torture ritual that seemed to get him off so much, but he had put her through all the rings of fire that came before it.

* * *

_Lago di Como, summer of 1995_

_Gerri thinks she might throw up as she sees the vein on Logan’s forehead throb more and more with each passing second, her focus on the doors and when they might be reopened. When he looks at her she has to make a conscious effort not to let any of the anguish show on her face, not to let her arms fold over her stomach, the pork and lamb roast dishes Logan had thrown all over the floor in his anger starting to smell up the room, making her feel sick._

_‘‘So, the son of God had the apostles – and Judas. What do I have? A bunch of sleazy suck-ups and…Gerri?’’_

_He turns to her, nailing her to the floor with his gaze, and she is unable to move, unable to process the utter delusion of comparing himself to Jesus as he stands a mere inch away from her, his face so close she can feel his scotch-stained breath on her neck._

_‘‘Do you want to maybe weigh in on the situation? Do you have any idea as to who could have talked to the other side while the rest of us were sweating blood through our fucking eye balls just so this deal would see the light of day?’’_

_She knows for a damned fact no one did, and that, though Logan’s gut feelings hit pay dirt most of the time, he was being completely paranoid in this instance. They were all on board, and he was simply angling for ways to insult her._

_Nothing she could have said would have helped her cause, so she finds the courage to look him in the eye, outwardly as calm and collected as she can possibly be._

_‘‘No one is out to get you, Logan.’’_

_She can see his eye twitching, his fist furling and unfurling by his side, itching to wrap itself around her throat, since it now seemed that was the only way he could humiliate her further. For a moment she even sees his hand fly up, knows he is on the edge of choking her, even prepares for it, knows deep down Baird would be useless because she sees him from the corner of her eye cowering behind his glass half a room away, divorces him mentally then and there._

_Logan’s sweaty face is still there, the sight of his panting mouth giving her a grueling visual as to what it’s like for any woman in his bed, the thought almost making her gag._

_Abruptly, he turns away, swiping the dishes and cutlery entirely off one of the tables that was still intact, the crashing sound a dissonant cacophony. She hadn’t known it then but that moment would be the soundtrack to her misery for years to come._

_‘‘GET OUT!’’_

_Not one of them needs to be told twice as the doors are opened and they all but run out, making their way towards their assigned rooms._

* * *

She feels Roman’s grip on her tighten, all the muscles in his body clenching almost rhythmically in anger, though it is a vibrant, soothing antithesis to his father’s rage.

She is fully aware that he needs to process her words in his own way, but also knows that what’s about to come in her confession is far worse.

She inches the back of her hand down his cheekbone, making him face her, palm now cupping the side of his jaw, the wounded look in his eyes one she wouldn’t forget in a hurry.

‘‘I know’’, she croons, softly brushing his hair from his eyes with her other hand, ‘‘I know you want to hurt him, I wanted to do the same, for years after what happened, but it was his world and I just lived in it, a lowly legal pencil pusher. But now it is _our_ world, yours and mine, and we need to protect it. And the way to start building that protection is by having absolutely no secrets between us, you said so yourself. Okay?’’

She would never burden him with it otherwise, but as unplanned as her angry rant at Logan was, it was out, and Roman deserved to know about this very important part of her life.

He nods, but then she is stunned into silence by a wet, sticky feeling under her palm, and when she lifts it from his face she is shocked to see a smear of blood pooling there, now seeping in earnest from the corner of his firmly shut lips. He had bitten down on his tongue.

‘‘Jesus’’, she breathes out, grabbing a robe, quickly pulling it on. ‘‘Come here.’’

Fearful of an infection she ushers him into the bathroom.

She makes him spit out the blood, and as he wordlessly checks how deep the wound is, she takes a steadying breath.

‘‘Rinse with cold water and take an ibuprofen, it’s bound to hurt like hell soon.’’

He does as instructed and she sees him wince at the taste as he swallows, quickly swiping the heel of his palm across his eyes.

‘‘It’s fine, it’s not too bad, I think it was just the angle.’’, he reassures her, his voice strained.

She hugs him from behind, settling her cheek against the back of his neck, feeling his muscles tense up all over again, knows the reason behind it.

‘‘You need to cry when you feel like crying, Rome. Not just tears of anxiety. There are all kinds of tears - happy, frustrated, angry, sad - and you have to let yourself experience them all. Yesterday was a good start for you, but you can’t stop there. I learned that lesson the hard way. Still learning, in a manner of speaking.’’

He turns around, kisses her hungrily, but then remembers the blood, pulls away, hopes she doesn’t mind, his mind still reeling, scattered.

‘‘Sorry.’’

She looks at him, smiles and pulls him back in, the kiss deep and thorough, copper-laced, the pain unnoticeable now, overshadowed by the pure love he feels pouring out of her, the gentle way she holds him, her lips occasionally moving away from his, murmuring soft encouragements.

But, he is also aware, even though she hasn’t exactly said so, that there is another, bigger part she hasn’t told him yet.

‘‘Can we go back to bed? For the rest of it?’’

She nods, and takes his hand, following her back to the bedroom.

* * *

‘‘You need to promise me one thing, before I go on?’’, she whispers into the pillows, lying on her side facing him, their legs and hands entwined. He nods, as always prepared to do anything for her.

‘‘You need to keep remembering, throughout whatever I have to tell you next, that you are not your father, you are not your family, and that nothing you hear can touch either of us anymore. You are bigger than them, always have been. And you are _mine_.’’, she almost growls the word out, the hungry possessiveness in it surprising her. ‘‘I will not have any actions of theirs hurt you any more than they already have.’’

His hand meanders between their bodies, across the warm skin of her stomach, onto her side, sliding over her hip and finally to the dimples on her lower back. He circles them calmly with the very tips of his fingers, grounding himself, his lungs opening that much more, a certain indescribable calm washing over him.

‘‘I promise.’’, he answers, pulling her closer into himself.

* * *

_When they get to their room, she can’t even stand to look at Baird, instead locking herself in the bathroom, quickly stripping her clothes off, deciding to throw them away the next morning, not wanting a single reminder of what happened in that ballroom._

_She feels an aching need to scrub every inch of herself clean of the grime of Logan Roy, keeping her tears in, not wanting to let him win._

_She turns the shower on and stands under it for ages, the water beating down her back the only sensation she lets in for a full fifteen minutes._

_When she shuts the jet off, the mirror is foggy and she swipes a hand across it to look at her reflection, heart pounding faster and faster in the steamed up bathroom._

_The shine in her eyes that had been so bright in the morning is gone now, dark circles prominent after she’d taken off her makeup. The takeover was sucking every ounce of strength she had left, and tonight feels like nothing but the beginning of yet another steep climb up a new Waystar hill. But she was damned if she was going to give up now._

_That stubborn Kellman streak rises up in her and she lets it feed her anger, encourages it to kill the fear Logan stoked mere moments prior. It feels good, and it also helps with sidestepping the growing physical ache in the pit of her stomach that wouldn’t leave her since Logan first spoke that evening._

_She keeps ignoring Baird as she dries her hair and gets into bed, the absolute exhaustion making her fall asleep within seconds._

* * *

_It starts off as a tingle that nudges her awake, a cold echo of a stale pain, the same pain she’d ignored for the entirety of the evening. Except now it is ravenous and growing, teething pangs stabbing her viciously and she bolts upright, hands clutching at her stomach._

_Baird is still fast asleep next to her, and she tries to catch her breath through the branding heat running jagged streaks across her lower abdomen._

_When she tries to get out of bed, she is frozen in place by a wet sensation between her legs, a heaviness, a weight messing with her center of gravity._

_She knows what she’ll see when she looks down, and yet she is not prepared._

* * *

_The blood on the fabric of her pajamas looks different somehow, like it’s twitching, fiery, grainy with the life that is currently being expelled from her body, like a white noise, end-of-program grotesque simile._

_She slowly lowers a hand down, almost on autopilot, and the ice of the liquid surprises her. She doesn’t know why but she expected boiling heat. She manages to call out to Baird just once before the darkness takes her, the sticky, grim scent of blood tattooing itself onto the back of her throat like a macabre hand print._

* * *

_On some level, she knew she’d been pregnant since the very first day her period was late. She had decided not to tell Baird until a doctor confirmed it for sure, needing some time to get comfortable with the idea of another baby. Laura was five and Julia was two, and with her new job she wasn’t sure how she would be able to take care of another child, she had to make plans._

_A while later, Logan is there, she hears him talking to Baird in the other room, but she tunes them both out, choosing to focus on the one crack in the ceiling, something solid and real, flawed like everything else in this fucked up world, telling her she was there and she was alive, even though her poor baby girl isn’t._

_She doesn’t know how she knows, but she does, it would have been a girl._

* * *

‘‘I didn’t let myself feel any of it after that night. I was dead on the inside for a whole year. The girls stayed with Baird’s parents for a good chunk of that time. It was only on the first anniversary of that day that I was able to fully function again. It was like I’d told myself enough was enough.’’

Logan had done a lot for her that year, guilt loud and clear, but never admitting to any of it, never apologizing, only ever playing at being a caring boss. She’d been told to take as much time as she needed, that her job would be waiting when she got back.

‘‘Baird was not in the least bit shaken, another child was not on his to-do list. He said as much around the six month mark. My silence annoyed him.’’

Rivulets of tears are running down Roman’s face, his breathing all over the place as he lets himself feel them, and honestly, it is one of the most beautiful sights she’s ever seen. She presses his face into her shoulder, encouraging him further, scraping his scalp with her fingers soothingly.

She was so proud of him for being able to let go. They both needed this, to allow themselves to grieve something, and it was good to be able to do so together.

She was reliving the instance of pain and anger Logan put her through that surpassed all others and Roman was letting himself learn why it was okay to distance himself from Logan, release all the negative feelings he ever had for him that he kept hidden from the rest of the world through his court jester act and crass words.

‘‘It was and will forever be unfair, it had no reason to happen, but when it did, I had to make do. I took Logan’s money and the position of General Counsel, later on when it was offered, and kept going, for my girls. I would have certainly given up and moved back to Kentucky had it not been for them. ‘‘, she smoothes a finger across the fine frown lines on his forehead, places a gentle kiss there. ‘‘Other than being a mom, I was dedicated to a life that meant merely existing, and going through the motions. Never, in my wildest dreams did I ever think you would happen to me, that I would ever be really happy.’’

She grabs a Kleenex from her dresser and gently wipes his face, his breathing ragged and exhausted.

‘‘We do this now, we rehash, we talk, we give ourselves this time. You can tell me anything, Roman. This is what marriage is. Talks like this, tears like this.’’

* * *

He can’t look away from her. A soft smile on her lips, eyes glinting, chest heaving with emotion.

He has no idea how she ripped him open in half and sifted through and cleared out all the putrid shit inside of him only to sew him back up again whole, breathing, seamless…but she did. And all this while facing the memory of the worst thing to ever happen to her. He buries his face in the pillow, hopes the coolness of the material will prevent another onset of tears.

‘‘Have you eaten?’’, she asks, sliding out from the sheets and he blinks the heat in his eyes away.

‘‘No. Had what now feels like half a gallon of vodka last night and woke up with a headache, if I ate something it would be all over this bed right now, ugh!’’

He presses a hand to his forehead, the headache suddenly very present again and his tongue also joins the party, the slight pain shooting down the side of his jaw and into his neck.

‘‘You stay there, I’ll make u some toast-’’ She stops, remembers his bite wound. ’’ On second thought, maybe some cereal. You have to eat something, the ibuprofen landing on a Grey Goose lining will not be pretty.’’

She wraps her robe tightly around her waist moving to leave the room.

‘‘Gerri, wait…come here?’’

She climbs back next to him on the bed, and he reaches for her, sitting up, hands immediately going round her waist, his lips finding her neck, simply pressing against the warm, fragrant skin.

Then he moves his hand up to her cheek, and can’t stop himself from leaning into her further, taking a deep breath, drawn like a moth to a flame to the aura he fell in love with. He moves slightly away then, finds her eyes.

‘‘I am so sorry, Gerri. She would have been amazing.’’

She is still for a long moment, and he knows she had surpassed the limit of emotional response she allotted herself for the day. He hopes the sectioning of grief will be a defense mechanism for only a brief while longer.

‘‘She would have been. Thank you, honey.’’

His heart trills at the endearment just as it always does and he takes her in his arms, kisses her deeply. Only then is he ready to start their day.

**PART 5**

‘‘Gerri, can I have a word?’’

Karolina pops her head in at 4:45 pm and Gerri is close to letting out a banshee wail of fury.

‘‘Sure, come in’’, she answers politely, knowing it wasn’t Karolina’s fault she was overworked. Karolina was actually the one port in the storm, other than Roman, that she could rely on these days.

‘‘I was wondering what you wanted to do about the annual end of summer gala?’’

She could kick herself for forgetting. The fucking gala. The Roys’ response to the Met, the physical embodiment of Logan’s ever present need to out-do, out-shine and out-buy everyone, even Anna Wintour herself.

Of course, not that he ever succeeded, the event had always been poorly to mildly well received in the society pages. The problem now was, with Logan’s newfound (additional) notoriety and scandal, whether to even do it. And she’d completely forgotten about it so now they have less than a month to work on it.

‘‘What do you think? PR wise, is it salvageable? Do we scrap or rebrand?’’

Karolina opens a folder on her tablet, handing it to Gerri.

‘‘Way ahead of you. Rebranding all the way. You now have at your disposal all of the budget without the oversight of Logan who always only worried about the outward appearance. You can make it into a new tradition, make it a fundraiser gala, link a different charity to it each year, or we can even create one of our own, though due to transparency reasons, I think we should go with already well established ones. It brings the Roy name back up to the level of patrons we had before without the usual scrutiny that usually follows Logan’s name. I mean, the spotlight will be on you and Roman now, as the new business power couple of NY, but I think it’s nothing you can’t handle.’’

Gerri peruses the broad spectrum of ideas before her, the plan amazingly thorough and she lifts her gaze to Karolina, smiling brightly.

‘‘You know, we really need to talk about getting you a pay rise, you are worth twice your current paycheck.’’

Karolina blushes under the praise, her smile widening.

‘‘I love my job. And plus, current management, compared to the olden days, is making my work a lot easier, for some odd reason.’’, she murmurs, tongue-in-cheek, looking to the doors, making sure no one was close by.

Gerri laughs at that, soon growing serious again.

‘‘Seriously, though, Karolina, you have been a life saver. I haven’t even had the time to thank you for that day, you kept Roman calm when I-’’

Karolina shakes her head.

‘‘Gerri. Before you were my boss you were my friend, the one person in this company who took me under her wing, showed me the ropes. There’s no need to thank me, you would do the same for me. I’m just glad you two are okay, and that you’re finally talking to someone. How’s Kim working out?’’

Gerri takes a deep breath, takes her glasses off, rubbing at the bridge of her nose.

‘‘I’ve only had the two sessions this past week, but I’d say it’s going well, we started with the whole Peter situation and I suppose we’ll work through many more events before I can actually say that the panic attacks are a thing of the past. Like I told Roman, they’re kind of a staple when working for Logan. She suggested I bring him along to a few of the following sessions, thinks we’ll both benefit from it.’’

‘‘How is he doing?’’

Gerri knows what she is really asking. How is he doing about the whole keeping the marriage secret thing.

‘‘He’s…’’, she pauses, uncertain, tucking a strand of hair behind her left ear. ’’More vocal about his misgivings, just like I asked him to be. He realizes it’s going to have to be a while longer.’’

Karolina bites the inside of her cheek, deep in thought and Gerri is intrigued.

‘‘Anything on your mind?’’

‘‘Well, ever since I basically badgered you into telling me about your marrieg, I’ve been sort of, keeping my ear to the ground. You two are a surprisingly good match. And don’t get me wrong, I don’t mean marriage wise, that’s not surprising at all, you have this magnet-like attraction, I see it at first glance. But the business partnership? That was one dark horse. You are so in sync, like running Waystar was something you were born to do, except not apart, but always together. And I think, contrary to my original piece of advice-’’

She stops, mulling over just how she would word it, Gerri now beyond intrigued.

‘‘You, as CEO, have the board eating out of your hand, and Roman has become the public’s darling, the heir that can do no wrong. I mean even the oppo research you told me about yielded no negatives apart from two barely substantiated claims. That’s peanuts in the world of any kind of intrigue, may even simply add to the question mark quality of him. So with that combination, and the growing support you two are getting on basically all fronts ever since we cut ties to Logan - I think the end of summer gala is the moment. To go public.’’

Gerri’s heart starts beating quicker and a warmth spreads through her tired limbs. She tries not to let the emotion show on her face.

‘‘Really?’’

Karolina smiles, reaching out to grip Gerri’s hand in hers.

‘‘Yes. And besides, it’s not just Roman who’s having a hard time keeping this secret. You feel like shouting it from the rooftops too, don’t you?’’

Gerri squeezes the offered hand, then moves away to the windows, focusing on a bright, marigold-colored sunset, just another item on a long list of things she missed out on experiencing with Roman because he’s stuck in his office and she in hers, as always, trying to keep the joint office time to a minimum.

‘‘Yes. It makes me feel like a teenager.’’ A fact she abhors and is in awe of in equal measure.

‘‘It must be hard, I couldn’t even imagine having to hide Luke from the world.’’

‘‘Thank you.’’, Gerri says, so very grateful she has someone like Karolina on her side.

‘‘So…a month then?’’

Gerri sniffs, wonders where the tears came from, swipes at her eyes and nods, brushing away the sentimentality, needing to get back on track.

‘‘Yes. Under no circumstances mention anything to Roman. If we tell him now, I will have a month of that excited jabber in my ear.’’, she grins.

Karolina nods, smiling back, retrieving her tablet.

‘‘Okay then. So, I will start on the initial prep for the gala, the usual, and as for the big reveal of yours, we will think of the logistics and how we are going to do it a bit later.’’

Gerri puts her glasses back on, checking her phone, deleting a few spam emails.

‘‘Do you think doing it during the closing speech would be a bit crass?’’

Karolina thinks on it, admits the merit of the question but ultimately shakes her head.

‘‘We will be going for a more relaxed vibe anyway, and focus on inviting people who we don’t absolutely have to milk for money, people who will willingly donate for whatever charity we pick out before the night itself, and the atmosphere should be completely different than any other Roy event we’ve done so far. So, a joint speech in the end by CEO and COO to the family that is Waystar, ending with a personal touch might even make more sense than any other approach we might choose.’’

‘‘Okay. I’m sorry, it’s just, three months of hiding seems like too short a time and I shouldn’t be complaining, but at the same time it feels like it’s been , I- ‘‘, she pauses, tries to keep it together.

Karolina nods, her slate-grey eyes understanding as ever.

‘‘And now it’ll all be out and you can finally focus completely on getting this once sinking ship back on track. The numbers don’t lie, Gerr, you are the best CEO any major corporation has ever had. You’re going to keep crushing it.’’

She leaves Gerri then, a smile on her face as she types out a text to Roman.

_‘‘Meet me at the car in 5?’’_

* * *

‘‘You took the last egg roll when I was in the bathroom!’’, Gerri exclaims, rolling up her sleeves, sitting back down next to him on the floor in front of the coffee table where their takeaway is spread out.

Roman rolls his eyes, his mouth brimming over with food and gestures to her serving.

‘‘Check again, your bitchy majesty.’’, he manages once he’s swallowed half of his bite, and she leans in to wipe a bit of soy sauce off his chin, pecks his greasy lips.

She finds the egg roll tucked in among the rest of the food on her plate.

‘‘Sorry. I just really wanted it.’’

‘‘You and your addiction to those things, I don’t know why I even bother to order any of the rest.’’

She grabs the roll and looks up only to see him looking, smiling. She tilts her head in question.

‘‘I have to, Gerr, if I’m not allowed to stare at you like the love sick slime ball I am at work, you know I have to make up for lost time when we come home.’’

She giggles as she gets up on her knees, kisses him briefly, and sits back down to finish her meal.

‘‘There’s something I wanted to talk to you about.’’

He looks up, taking a sip of his Sprite, forehead already furrowing in concern.

She smoothes a palm over the back of his hand and he immediately turns it over to entwine their fingers, brings her hand up to kiss it.

‘‘It’s good, Rome, don’t worry.’’, she nudges him to look at her, feeling she was half way to losing him to the anxiety she knows always simmers underneath the blasé surface, tries to dial it down, with a word, a carefully chosen tone of voice.

‘‘I was thinking, your birthday is soon, and we have the end of summer gala around the same time.’’

‘‘We’re still doing that?’’, he asks, brushes the hair out of his face.

‘‘Yeah, Karolina made a good point about rebranding, and I can safely say it has the makings of a hit. But, that’s not what I wanted to ask. I was wondering, how would you like it if we went to my weekend place in Montauk the few days before the thing? It’s secluded. I figured your birthday present can be me letting you do stuff to me in it.’’, she says with a completely straight face, a cheeky wink thrown in for good measure, then continues. ‘‘On the day of the gala we’d pretend to have arrived together from NY, you know we always use the same venue, it’s close by in Montauk, too.’’

He grasps her round the waist, draws her into his body, the fact that they’re on the floor making it easier to lift her onto his lap, her legs going round his waist, her skirt bunching up round her hips.

‘‘Why, Madame CEO, are you trying to corrupt a young, impressionable extremely un-savvy COO to your sheets, and in such a blatant manner?’’

‘‘I most certainly am’’, she fires back, grinning seductively. ‘‘Is it working?’’

He kisses a trail down her throat, nuzzling into the collar of her blouse, tongue playing with her necklaces.

‘‘Oh it definitely is, the un-savvy COO is a whore, really.’’

‘‘I should hope not. Madame CEO hopes to be the only one holding his attentions. For a long time to come.’’

He gulps at hearing the words, expression serious all of a sudden. The way her feelings for him are still occasionally intangible to him becomes pointedly obvious to her in that moment. Good lord, they were in the same boat of insecurities, she puzzles as she kisses his seriousness away, tongue caressing his, lips sliding down, pushing him backwards.

‘‘Gerri, that’s gonna hurt your knees.’’, he protests, but she throws him a _zip-it_ look and he holds his hands up, giggling.

‘‘Alright, alright, you may proceed, ma’am.’’

She pinches his side, and he squeals under her.

‘‘Ow! Rude!’’

‘‘Call me ma’am one more time, see what happens.’’

‘‘Never again, scout’s honor.’’

She crawls over him, enjoying the position of power, but then again that was nothing new, he is always a puddle of goo, especially with her like this, not giving away her plans, making him wonder what form the pleasure she will give him would take.

She’s not quite sure yet, either.

After a while of simply looking at him, taking her fill of his mischievous, gorgeous features, she kisses his nose, his forehead, eye lashes, pouting lips. She inhales the cologne that’s become the theme of her life, licks it off his neck, his sweat joining the scent on her tongue. He moans, his hands coming up to reach for the buttons on her shirt, but she pushes them down to the floor, above his head.

‘‘You be a good boy now Rome, and keep those there’’, she grins wickedly, knowing that being unable to touch her will make him go crazy.

His breathing is now truly erratic, and she slides off him slowly, unbuttoning his shirt along the way, ordering him out of it, out of his trousers. Soon he is completely naked under her and she can feel herself getting wetter at the sight of him, naked, cock leaking, ready for her.

She takes her time undressing herself, her clothes joining his.

‘‘Gerri, I love you with all of my heart, but if you don’t do something, anything, or let _me_ do something, soon I’m gonna turn over and hump my way to orgasm right here on this Berber rug. You wanna risk the cleaners seeing it?’’

‘‘Oh, the mind games, Rome, they don’t suit you, leave that to the pros, and besides, you really think the rug would be enough? With me right here?’’, she threatens, straddling him again, pressing down, their bodies in full contact now, her breasts rubbing against his chest, her clit against the skin of his stomach, throbbing so hard she feels any stronger contact than that will undo her completely, quells the overwhelming urge to sink onto him immediately.

She makes her way down his torso, kissing a blazing path down, and he realizes what’s in store, tries not to buck up prematurely.

She grasps him in her hand softly at first then grips him firmly, and his eyes roll to the back of his head at the amount of pleasure that provokes. He pushes up but a hand on his lower abdomen stops him.

‘‘We do this my way.’’

Swallowing against a Sahara dry throat he nods furiously and she smiles beatifically, innocently, like she isn’t about to give him the dirtiest blowjob he’d ever gotten in his entire life.

When she finally touches him with her lips, he thinks for a moment he’s gone blind. Her mouth is gentle, kissing down his length, her thumb rubbing tiny circles at the top, the scent of him already filling the room.

In one quick motion, she swallows him down and he almost thrusts up, manages to somehow rein in his movement and is soon rewarded for his effort. Her hand reaches out to his, pulls it down, places it on the back of her head, permission to guide her movements.

He threads his fingers through the silken strands, completely taken over by the building orgasm, and the perfect way she is seducing it out of him that no guidance is even necessary, but the very position they’re in, the sight of him in her mouth is enough to push him over the edge that much quicker. Finally, he does thrust up, once twice, and she finds her own rhythm of ebb and flow to coincide with his movements, much like she does with anything they do, swallowing as he comes, and god, fuck if that doesn’t almost make him hard all over again.

She lays down next to him, watches as his arm is pressed across his eyes, his chest blotchy, sweat sliding off his forehead. She follows a bead of it down with her finger, combs through his wet hair.

‘‘That…was…’’ he breathes out, still unable to form a coherent sentence. When she doesn’t respond for a few beats he looks at her, sees her eyes are shut and her back is arched away from the floor. Her right hand has disappeared between her legs, movements steady, hips undulating.

‘‘Impatient, huh?’’, he smirks, hand already reaching out, slowly grabbing her wrist pulling her fingers away and into his mouth, sucking her juices off. And just like that, the tang of her on his tongue, he is back in the game, so very ready for her again.

He massages her clit in that way she likes, knows it won’t get her off but it will relax all her tense muscles, the tiny orgasm-adjacent jolts enough to lull her into an erotic haze.

After a few moments though, she opens her eyes, looks at him, and he is struck by every single emotion he sees in them, all over again.

‘‘Please.’’

Every time she says the word when they’re making love it disassembles him into his basic components and rebuilds him into just that much of a better person. Because the very idea that she of all people had any reason to beg for anything from him? Insane.

He stills his movements for a second, taking it all in and she reaches down and grabs his cock, jolts him back to the present. He dives down, captures her lips as she pants into him.

‘‘Fuck me.’’

He growls at the words, the deep, dominant tone she cloaked them in, and then he is inside her, he is home and she wraps her legs around him as he slides even further in. He pulls them into an upright position, settling her safely in his lap.

She strikes a rhythm then, hurried and rough, just what he needs after the slow dance that was his previous orgasm, her arms round his shoulders, nails occasionally scraping against the sweaty skin of his back.

He grunts into her neck, and she can’t stop herself from crying out.

‘‘Oh god, yes, Rome, right there, don’t stop, baby, that’s it, fuck, don’t stop!’

‘‘Never, just us, right here, Gerr, forever, fuckfuckfuck,mine, mine, mineminemineMINE!’’

He loses it completely as he pounds into her and the heat between their bodies makes him harder, feeling her even slicker around him, thrusting further, deeper onto him, unable to get her fill, always looking for more.

When she comes, he is moments after her, right there at the same precipice, falling onto his back, her on top of him, the sounds of their labored breaths echoing off the walls.

* * *

She enters the penthouse, throwing her jacket off, slinging her purse in the general vicinity of the couch, heads straight to the bar to make herself a martini.

Roman, surprised by her appearance, pops his head out of the kitchen.

‘‘Back already? I thought today’s session with Karolina was gonna be a long one? Not that I’m complaining, mind you. Here, let me do that’’, he gently nudges her to sit down and she presses herself against him thankfully, before moving to the couch, stretching herself lengthwise, sighing into the cushions.

‘‘I was so sick and tired of it all I called an early night. I have never seen them all so happy, they scattered quicker than cockroaches when a flashlight hits in a dark room, and I include myself here. It’s just, there’s so much to do, you know it, you’ve seen the fucking storyboard for the thing. The theme, the music, the getting at least one worthwhile celeb, and let me tell you, right now, they are running from Waystar like bats out of hell, despite our renewed good standing. I’m going to have to do something drastic.’’

‘‘Like?’’, he asks, joining her on the couch, handing her the martini.

She takes a long sip, moaning in pleasure, feels him massage her shoulders, adjusting himself behind her so she can recline into him.

‘‘Shiv.’’

‘‘Ugh, if celebs are running from the Roys she has to be top of the list, right?’’

‘‘She still has enough clout from back when she worked for Gill, I have a feeling she’d be good for this one occasion. And be nicer to her, at least to her face. Together, you two saved my life. So, as much as it annoys us, I do owe her one.’’

He presses a soft kiss to her temple, fingers gently undoing the pins holding her hair up, and she sighs thankfully, not caring one bit where the pins end up as she hears them clatter to the floor, something she would have scolded him for before. Good god she’s glad she’s not the Gerri she used to be.

‘‘I know, it’s just she’s Dad’s baby girl, his Pinky-can-do-no-wrong. I’m still having trouble believing it was Oliver and not her that sold us out.’’

She stills at that.

‘‘Gerr?’’

She sighs

‘‘I really wasn’t going to mention this until I knew for sure, but I think it may actually have been her.’’

She gets up to face him, sets her glass down on the coffee table.

‘‘What do you mean?’’, he asks, letting her scoot away from him to the other end of the couch, lifting her feet into his lap.

‘‘I talked to Oliver yesterday. I knew we had to do something with the whole situation. He was terrified and I gave him the full third degree. He said Logan did try to offer him money, but that he declined. And I believe him. I did some snooping and he hasn’t made any large purchases in the past three months and his daughter’s medical bills are still pending.’’

Roman starts to say something but she interrupts him.

‘‘Already taken care of. I had Karolina make an anonymous donation taking care of her bills, current and any that may come in the future, and had her transferred to a better facility.’’

He crawls over from his side, leans into her, and she finally kisses him, their second kiss of the day, not nearly enough to sustain her through the day at the office. She suspects, subconsciously, she let Karolina and her team have an early night because she just wanted to come back to him sooner. She smiles, eyes dancing with all the lovely possibilities now that she was finally home.

‘‘You are incredible, Gerri Kellman Roy, do you know that? How are you this perfect?’’, he utters, eyes full of pure adoration and her breath gets stuck in her chest and she feels heat rushing to her cheeks. Compliments never fazed her much because most of the ones directed at her were manipulation tactics. But the genuine care and love in all of Roman’s words to her were a special kind of balm for frayed nerves and she rises up on the couch, onto her knees, straddles his lap.

He slides his palms down her thighs, leans his head against her collarbone.

‘‘Italian takeaway?’’

She laughs, surprised yet again at the way he was able to read her mind.

‘‘I have been craving pasta all day.’’, she answers, kisses him until he has to pull back before he faints.

‘‘Keep that up and the delivery guy will find us in a very compromising position.’’

She giggles, pushes herself off of him and heads to the bathroom.

‘‘I am going to have a bubble bath. You’re welcome to join after you order the food. Tell them to leave it with the doorman, we’ll pick it up later.’’

His mouth practically salivates at the thought of a nice long soak with her in the enormous bath and he almost drops his phone in the hurry to put in the order.

* * *

‘‘What is this, lavender?’’

She bends her knees to accommodate his body better, cradled between her legs, cheek grazing her collarbone, his hands sliding in wet circles against her thighs. She can’t remember a time when she was this relaxed, despite the chaos at Waystar. He was her good luck charm.

‘‘Lavender and vanilla. Not usually my go to, but you seemed to like it last time, it helped you sleep.’’

He was mostly restless at night, so she was glad that the scent seemed to help, decided to test that theory again.

‘‘Nice’’, he murmurs into her skin, and she lifts her palm to caress his cheek, up into his hair, the bubbles smoothing through it making it glisten charcoal black in the light of the few candles.

‘‘I’m going to ambush Shiv. See if it was her before I hire her for the gala. Thoughts on how to go about it?’’

He thinks on it for a while.

‘‘Are we going good cop-bad cop? Or would you prefer a solo mission?’’

She laughs at his choice of words, kisses his cheek, fingers tracing lines across his chest.

‘‘I think if you’re around, she’ll feel more cocooned in that trademark Shiv Roy smugness. I need her guard down.’’

‘‘Okay, well she always hated shopping for clothes, because let’s face it, but for the affinity for dick she has, and the feminine features, she’s always been one of the boys. You call her under some pretext of helping you choose a dress for the gala, and she won’t let herself say no and she will be so out of her element you could ask anything and I’m pretty sure she’d crack.’’

Gerri hums in thought, her head thrown back against the edge of the bath.

‘‘You devious little fucker. You’re right. Out of her comfort zone, she’ll be eating out of my hand. What’s the deal with her and Tom these days?’’

‘‘Fuck if I know, she never wants to talk about it. Not that I ask, mind you. But now that I think about it, I haven’t seen or heard much from Tom, apart from the few times around at the office since that day I punched him’’, he grits his teeth at the resurfacing anger he felt at that moment. He clears his throat.

‘‘He’s been keeping a low profile, but I don’t think it’s because of the cruises thing. Could be rocky, I’ve had that feeling since Croatia, since she sold him down the river during the blood bath.’’

Gerri files away the information for future use, pushes slightly on his shoulders.

‘‘Time to get out, the water is barely tepid now, and also, I feel like my stomach is eating its own lining for sustenance.’’

Immediately, he is out, getting a towel to wrap her in, then clinging to her in his arms for a while longer.

* * *

Shiv meets her at her office and from there they are supposed to go meet Gerri’s stylist friend Sasha for Gerri to pick a dress that will then be fitted for the gala.

She is sending off the final email of the day when Shiv peeks in through the door, coat in hand, smiling that fox-sly smile of hers. Gerri feels like she is going to have a lot of fun grilling her.

‘‘Siobhan!’’

‘‘Fairy godmother! Or…godsister?’’, she asks, eyebrows waggling, coldness always lurking behind that seemingly eternally friendly front.

Off to the races, then. Gerri doesn’t mind, knows that the rudeness-adjacent banter was another Roy defense mechanism, so innate to all the Roy siblings that they used it in day to day conversations that didn’t even require them.

She leans into the mood.

‘‘The latter makes me sound younger, I’ll go with that.’’, she smirks, leaning in for the mandatory air kisses.

They get in the elevator and Gerri checks her phone, sees a message from Roman pop up as the doors close.

_‘‘Give her a run for her money.’’_

She swallows down a laugh as she types out her reply, Shiv occupied with her on own phone.

_‘‘We’ll see. She has come prepared, feels almost like she coached herself, the tendons in her neck look like they’re ready to snap.’’_

_‘‘Ohh, that’s war Shiv. She was like that the summer Dad wanted to send her to boarding school, you remember that?’’_

She rolls her eyes in annoyance, she had heard talk of nothing else but that fucking boarding school from Logan that summer. Shiv really did have him around her little finger when she tried her best. Logan was not an easy man but she had her ways, and not only was she not sent to boarding school, but he had bought her another horse. Meanwhile, Roman gets beat up over lobster in Gstaad. She bristles at the memory of the moment back in the Summer Palace when Roman tried to downplay the way it affected him. Even as early as back then she could read him so easily.

_‘‘Well, unlike your father, and the way she manipulated him, I am well prepared for whatever comes out of her fire-breathing mouth. And besides, if she wants an in with the new Waystar management, she needs to play nice.’’_

_‘‘Facts on facts. Call when you’re done, I want that tea piping hot. Love you, my ride-or-die.’’_

Gerri fails to keep in a laugh at the slang she was only just getting used to hearing from him, sends an _I love you_ back, but then feels Shiv looking at her weirdly. She then remembers that Shiv probably never heard her genuine laughter. Stands to reason, since Gerri never really had reason to feel truly joyous about anything around the family, before Roman. She then decides to work the angle.

‘‘Oh, I just saw this new meme, kids these days.’’

She sees Shiv really bite her tongue at that, potentially not wanting to unleash the age jokes before they’ve even gotten to the showroom. She grins down at her screen. The day was looking up.

She casually slips out of the eighth dress of the day, declares it a no-go, smiles at Sasha’s assistant as the girl hands her a champagne flute, completely unfazed only in her slip, stockings and garters. She thinks back to that morning when she practically had to beat Roman off with a stick when he saw her, he was so close to making her late for her eight o’clock meeting.

Shiv is on the couch, completely detached from all the inane questions Gerri is throwing her way about the dresses. She can see Shiv’s patience is on the edge of running out, and honestly, Gerri can’t wait, playing the role of ditzy idiot was painful. But then she remembers that she actually does have to pick a dress for the thing, and something of the real Gerri must bleed into the front she put on for Shiv, because when Gerri looks up at her, her sister-in-law seems to be picking up on this new frequency.

‘‘What’s the matter, you look…I don’t know how to describe it. Lost?’’

She doesn’t know what propels to her to actually have a true conversation with Shiv, but she feels she wants to, slipping into the next dress, a cream-colored scoop neck number with long sleeves, voluminous skirts billowing around her as she tries to do the zipper.

‘‘Siobhan, do you mind?’’

Shiv helps, making eye contact in the mirror.

‘‘You’re avoiding the question, Gerr. What’s all this really about?’’

Gerri smoothes the front of the dress, turns to the side, looks at her form from all sides, using the several mirrors pointing at her from all directions. She ignores Shiv a while longer, really not wanting to go into it, knowing that she will probably have to.

‘‘What do you think, yay or nay?’’

Shiv shakes her head in amusement at this new evasion tactic and lifts her head to give her actual opinion on the dress this time.

‘‘It brings out your eyes beautifully. If you pick it, you should also definitely go for an up-do and diamond earrings. But there’s just something I-’’, she pauses, hand coming up to her face, fingers tapping at her bottom lip.

Gerri turns at the pause, looking at Shiv, question in her eyes.

‘‘Oh, it’s just, I realized this would be the first gala you’ll be attending as CEO, and as a newly married woman.’’

It hadn’t actually crossed her mind, but yes, she supposes, that’s why there was a certain amount of pressure on everything going well. Especially given what would be revealed at the end of the evening. Not that Shiv needed to know about that. And besides, she was hardly going to go all gooey and confession-prone with someone she suspects of going to Logan with her biggest secret.

‘‘I suppose you’re right. And?’’

‘‘Well, that dress -the cut, the color - doesn’t it look like a wedding dress? But like, not really? I think it’s a sign. The symbolism of it all.’’

Sometimes, Gerri felt like she hugely underestimates Shiv’s insightfulness. Because yes, the dress was toeing the line between formal and wedding attire and that makes up her mind.

They fit her for the outfit, complete with accessories and Shiv and her leave the showroom for lunch.

* * *

As they wait for their meal to arrive, Gerri decides to just ask. The heat of the dying summer is like an annoying gnat and she finds herself losing patience with the games she has to play every day, she’d much rather at least be upfront with someone who is now, inarguably(at least on paper) a member of her family.

‘‘I have one question and I want a straightforward answer.’’

‘‘Finally! I was wondering what that torture session was all about.’’

‘‘Well, to be honest, I did need a female touch for the dress selection, all my friends were busy and my girls are not going to be visiting NY until Christmas, so…’’

She knows it was a mistake to mention Julia and Laura, because as soon as she does, she can almost see Shiv’s canines glitter in the lighting of the restaurant.

‘‘I’ve been wondering, what do they have to say about you and Roman?’’

Gossip Girl Shiv was always the easiest one to subdue of all her alter egos, but Gerri doesn’t particularly relish talking about any of it. She buys time by flagging the waiter down to ask for a refill of her water.

‘‘Oh come on Gerr, we’re sisters now’’, she says, smirking annoyingly, and Gerri laughs. Because she knows, feels, that at least some of the effort Shiv is putting in is genuine. Gerri can hardly blame the girl who had to work for her father’s attention since the day she took her first breath. It always worked like a charm, sure, but the fact remains that she had to learn how to get Logan on her side. She earned her seat at the Roy family table, as vile as it was.

‘‘Sisters indeed. So, sibling to sibling…did you tell Logan about me and Roman?’’

That shuts her up. Gerri sees her swallow her sip of water slowly, placing the glass precisely down, aligning it nervously with her plate and cutlery.

‘‘Not…exactly.’’, she says after a few moments, and Gerri leans in, nodding at her to continue.

‘‘It was a whole month before the shooting and all that. You have to understand I was poised to become CEO and then I wasn’t and I was angry. Mostly at Dad, but of course I couldn’t do anything about that. It was before I knew you were even married. I had hinted to Dad that maybe you two were getting a little too chummy, but I only ever meant it in a business type sense. Roman told me something about you two being summoned to the summer palace, but he wouldn’t say what happened. I guess Dad was wiser than me, and when he went back over all of it in his head, he must have seen all of that mentor stuff for what it actually was.’’

Gerri’s eyes snap up to meet Shiv’s angrily.

‘‘The ‘mentor stuff’ was real, Siobhan. Before anything else ever happened. And I will not explain my marriage to you or anyone else.’’

‘‘Okay, okay’’, Shiv holds her hands up in surrender. ‘‘I’m sorry. Look, I know there’s about zero reason for you to believe me, but I don’t know what else to tell you.’’

Gerri deflates in her seat, looking up at the waiter who is dropping off their food, smiles politely.

‘‘Okay. Shiv, I’ll be honest with you. You are great at what you do, and so far you haven’t stabbed Roman or myself in the back…much.’’ She knows she doesn’t believe Shiv fully, but she is tight for time and has to do something to get the gala organization back on track. ’’So you have to understand why none of this is easy on me? Having to interrogate you like this just to be able to hire you? And don’t pretend like you haven’t been circling me, angling for a position for a long while.’’

Shiv has the common sense to say nothing looking as sheepish as Gerri has ever seen her.

‘‘I need help with the gala. You would be Karolina’s second in command.’’, Gerri says, though she knows deep down she is going to regret it somehow.

She knows that the situation will be a thorn in both Shiv’s and Karolina’s sides, but she finds she couldn’t care less. They were both professionals and would have to deal with it.

‘‘So it would be a one off?’’, Shiv asks, cutting into her steak (so bloody Gerri thinks she can still hear the cow moo). Figures.

‘‘For now. I guess it will be a test run, for both you and Karolina, figuring out how you best function together, if at all.’’, she lies through her teeth, knowing Shiv would need to go through several more trials of fire if she was ever to be considered trustworthy again.

‘‘Okay. What’s the breakdown, show me.’’

* * *

The two following weeks leading up to the fundraiser fly by and as the date approaches Gerri is in such a spasm with all the work that needs to be done by Roman’s birthday week she might scream with frustration. A month long vacation sounds like just the ticket, but she doesn’t even let herself daydream about it, it was never going to happen.

And she still has to let him know of the plans she made to visit Laura and Julia in Chicago.

The conversation with Shiv got her to thinking about how she was going to approach them with the news. It had to be done, they would never forgive her if they found out through social media after her and Roman’s announcement.

‘‘Hey Gerr, you got a minute?’’, Roman asks, surreptitiously glancing about her office, just in case someone else was in there.

‘‘You’re safe, everyone filed out after that god-awful brainstorming session, I was about ready to slice Tom’s head off I don’t mind telling you. Luckily, Cyd got there before me, I think I saw him hold in tears.’’

He winces at her mood, knowing she had a hell of day, her to-do list brimming over with menial tasks Logan never bothered with. Her hands-on approach to her work was what got her the high approval ratings, but Roman absolutely hates the way it drains her completely.

‘‘Okay, Madame CEO, up you go, we’re having lunch. I was gonna pick your brains about this new acquisition, but it can wait.’’

She wants to fight him on it, but relents at the last moment, realizing she was so hungry she could eat her entire desk three times over and not bat an eye.

‘‘Sushi?’’

‘‘Way ahead of you, I booked us a table at that new place you wanted to try out.’’

‘‘Good god, I love you.’’, she whispers, looks around and steals a kiss. He is too stunned to respond for immediately but then melts into it. After a while, she pushes him gently away, heading to get her purse.

* * *

‘‘I was gonna ask-’’ he says through a mouthful, getting a scolding glance from her. He swallows and continues.

‘‘There’s a two day gaping hole in your schedule, Wednesday and Thursday, is that the days we’re going to Montauk, you never gave me the exact dates?’’

She takes a sip of her sake, thinks on the way she is going to answer. He will want to go with her and she can’t have him there. Not when she knows they might not take too kindly to her choice, and her daughters, though they are hers, have been known to be vicious in what they perceive to be protection of their ’’poor widowed mother’’. If they only knew.

‘‘No, the days we’re going to be off are sectioned as ‘‘work’’, the Friday and Saturday before the gala. Karolina said she would make up a phony task for us so it doesn’t seem weird we’re not at the office.’’

‘‘So, what’s this gap then?’’, he persists, the way his jaw is set she thinks he already has a fairly good idea.

‘‘I’m going to visit the girls. To…talk to them about us.’’

‘‘And you didn’t think I might just want to be there when you do that?’’

She holds back a sigh of annoyance.

‘‘Roman, let’s not get into this. I know exactly how you feel, have known it since I decided to go, but I don’t have the strength to argue my case right now. It will go better if it’s just me at first. You’re going to have to trust me on this.’’

She knows he’s afraid that the reactions of the girls will make her waver in her commitment to him. He has gotten so used to getting everything good taken away from him that he expects it at every single corner, especially where she is concerned.

Despite all this she doesn’t have the time or patience to deal with him. She barely has enough will power to get up every morning, that’s how tired she is.

Luckily, he’s gotten better at controlling his reactions, and he reads her face for all she doesn’t want to say, calms down enough to continue his meal, still not completely settled, but reasonable enough to know she needed a nice quiet meal before they both returned to the office.

If they were home, she’d kiss his worries away, but the public setting makes it impossible and her gut clenches in anger. Just a few more days, and all of that will be over and done with. The eve of the gala can’t come soon enough.

* * *

He accompanies her to the airport, and insists on going to the tarmac and into their private jet with her, and she can’t say she minds the clinginess. She realized that morning that this will be the first time she is away from him overnight since they got married. She has no idea why the thought makes her want to cry, she feels like a spoiled child.

He sits with her on the plane, waiting for the pilot to kick him out. He looks about, seeing no crew had boarded yet, kisses her until she’s panting against him and she has to be the grown up one, again.

‘‘Rome, please behave. If I have to get off this plane with ruined panties, I am going to kill you.’’

He laughs and she swallows the vibrations in another kiss, but then firmly makes him climb down the stairs of the plane.

‘‘Text when you land?’’, he says, eyebrows knitting together, hands in his pockets. He looks miserable.

‘‘Okay. I’ll be back before you know it.’’, she says, but has no idea if she is soothing herself or him.

She gets back to her seat, tries not to focus on his silhouette through the tiny airplane window.

He will be the sweet death of her. And she doesn’t mind one bit.

* * *

‘‘ _Checked into the hotel, the heat is blistering, and the wind is somehow not helping. Can’t wait to take an ice cold shower. Ttyl. Love you, Rockstar. <3 __’’_

Her text comes through just as he is wrapping up another meeting that could have been an e-mail, feeling a mounting sense of unease about the whole acquisition, decides to talk to her about abandoning ship.

_‘‘Just finished another talk with the good gentlemen bitches of Ryon, and I don’t think the gosh darn’d Texans were fans of my highly blunt approach. We need to figure out what to do about them when you get back. In the meantime, enjoy your shower, have fun with Laura and Julia– despite the heavy topic that needs discussing – and I will touch base later. Love you, Molewoman :* ’’_

He goes back to the office from the airport even though technically he doesn’t have much in his schedule for the day, things on his end winding down for the week.

However he figures that being in the office surrounded by the usual hubbub beats having to be back home with the very audible absence of her just sitting on his chest like a rock.

He is worried about how her daughters are going to take the news, but not for the reasons she thinks. He knows she probably has this notion in her mind that he still doesn’t fully believe she is in it for the long haul, and though that has been the case before, he has grown past that, their marriage now more solid than ever.

He is more worried about Laura and Julia rejecting Gerri in some way, because he could never forgive himself if he ended up being the cause of a rift between her and her children, especially since his family had taken enough from her on that front already. He stretches his arms, leaning backwards in his chair, trying to shake away the memories of her story that keep flooding back.

He makes a further valiant effort to get it off his mind, and opens his inbox. Luckily, the curse of a COO is that there is always some work to be done and he might as well get to it.

He shakes his head, almost not recognizing this new and improved, conscientious, emotionally somewhat healthy Roman. He reaches up to the bas-relief of his ring over his shirt and smirks. The fucking power of love.

* * *

She agrees to meet the girls at a coffee place not far from Laura’s office, during her lunch break. She wanted to see them both before they had dinner that evening, this talk of theirs was bound to be a two-parter, and she needed them to have the time to cool off before they actually told her what they thought.

The unpredictability of both their responses was grating on her nerves so much she had to down a martini before she left the hotel.

She sees them enter the coffee shop arm in arm, inseparable as always, pretty much since Laura first held baby Julia in her arms twenty seven years ago. Julia even followed her sister to university and they both made Chicago their home after their studies had ended, Julia following in her mother’s legal steps and becoming a lawyer, Laura a high school English teacher. Gerri wasn’t always too happy about the fact that they were both so far from her, but she reasoned that it was good they were close to each other, and she could always commandeer Logan’s private jet and be there with them within three short hours if they ever needed her.

She focuses on them as they put the orders in and wait for their coffee. Laura’s long dark hair is swept up in a high ponytail, her sister’s short blonde locks styled the way Gerri used to wear her hair when she was her age. Julia hikes her exercise mat higher on her shoulder and looks around, finally finding her mother in the crowded coffee shop.

‘‘Mom!’’

They all smile, the girls weaving their way through the throng of bodies, coffee cups in hand.

‘‘ Look at you, you look so radiant, what have you been up to since becoming CEO, it looks good on you.’’, Julia says, hugging her, before stepping aside so Laura can greet Gerri.

Gerri smiles as they take their seats.

‘‘Well thank you girls, you look lovely yourselves!’’

They chatter on about a few things for the first twenty minutes, the talk stinted. It’s been a long while – in mom time - since they talked like this, and Gerri is on edge with this enormous thing she has to share with them, doesn’t really know why she feels so tightly wound - they’re her girls, and would love her no matter what she told them. Right?

‘‘Mom, are you okay, you look pale all of a sudden?’’, she hears Julia ask.

She grabs her cup, takes a generous sip, the still hot liquid jolting her back to the reason they were there.

‘‘Mom, is everything okay? You’ve been really weird since we got here.’’, Laura says, grasping Gerri’s hand in hers, her thumb rubbing what she assumes are meant to be soothing circles but in fact only unnerve Gerri more. She commands herself to get a grip.

‘‘Okay, well…there’s something I need to talk to you about…’’

The way she says it must be way off, because both the girls look like they’re about to cry.

‘‘Oh my god, Mom, you’re not sick are you?’’ Julia asks, panicked, hands coming up to cup her face, and Gerri can see she is close to hyperventilating.

‘‘No, sweetie, god no. I’m sorry, it’s…I’ve been a little off today, with the heat and all the work back home, I’ve been a mess. ‘‘

‘‘What is it then, is everything okay?’’

‘‘Oh my god, you’re seeing someone!’’, Laura exclaims and Gerri winces because that was so not the inside voice she taught them to use in public settings.

‘‘I-’’ Gerri starts, but is interrupted by an even more enthusiastic Julia.

‘‘Wow, Mom, who is he? Or…she? I don’t know, no judgment here.’’

‘‘If it is a woman, I bet it’s Karolina, Jules, she is fiiiine.’’

They laugh in unison, not even the melody of their laughter enough to put Gerri back on track as she just leans back waits for their little sisterly bonding moment to be over.

‘‘Sorry to disappoint, but it’s not Karolina.’’

‘‘Okay, spill, who is it? It must be serious, you’ve never flown in specifically to tell us you were getting some!’’, Julia says, grinning into her coffee.

‘‘You know you’re not too old for a spanking, missy. Get your mind out of the gutter.’’

‘‘Yeah, Jules, I doubt Mom wants to rehash her bedroom antics with her kids. But like, you’re getting some, right Mom? Some really good _some_?’’

She is this close to giving up when she sees Julia steer her sister to seriousness with a single look.

‘‘Sorry, Mom. Go on. Though that is a lovely shade of red on your cheeks right now.’’

This is it, now or never, and Gerri might just throw up but for her strongly engrained social manners and newly-acquired CEO status overriding any and all opportunity for public incidents.

‘‘He’s younger than me. Which is the first point I want to convey.’’

‘‘First? There’s more? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I am all for it, more power to you, but like, is there something wrong with him if the age difference is the least important on your list to tell us about?’’

Gerri blinks the heat away, cursing the fact she didn’t get an iced coffee.

‘‘And also, how much younger? We talking five, six years or are we talking decades?’’

Gerri bites the inside of her cheek and it’s all the answer they need as they start giggling.

‘‘Oh my god, go Mom! Well, you know, I can see – other than the pallor in your face at the very prospect of spilling your guts to us – that he treats you well, you are glowing!’’, Julia smiles, winking.

‘‘Yeah mom, I mean you’re always gorgeous, don’t get us wrong but you look…so happy and healthy. How could you ever think we would disapprove?’’, Laura asks, tucking a strand of hair that came loose from her ponytail behind her ear, her other hand tapping out an uneven rhythm against the table, a nervous tick she inherited from Baird.

‘‘The thing is…’’ she pauses, takes a breath. ’’You know him. Have known him since you were children.’’

It’s out, sort of, just a few more steps. But the look on Julia’s face stops her in her tracks. There’s bewilderment there, then a certain amount of dawning, then pure shock.

‘‘No.’’, she shakes her head, mouth set in a tight line, and Gerri could cry at just how much her baby girl looks like her in that moment, would treasure it in any other instance, but now all she can focus on is her own sinking stomach.

‘‘What? What am I missing?’’ Laura asks, as Julia scrolls through her phone, handing it to her sister as she finds what she is looking for.

Gerri can see it’s one of the more recent news articles about the latest power couple of NY, CEO and COO of Waystar Royco.

‘‘Roman Roy???’’, Laura almost squeals, Gerri shushing her.

‘‘I mean, it wouldn’t have been my guess but I suppose…good for you? How, I mean…when - I’m sorry it’s just a lot to take in.’’

Gerri nods, her eyes on a now furious Julia, who she sees getting up from her seat, her yoga mat back on her shoulder.

‘‘Um, I am gonna go, I’m late for my yoga class.’’

‘‘Jules,wait, what-’’, Laura starts to get up and after her but Gerri’s hand on her shoulder makes her stop.

‘‘Let her go.’’

Laura sits back down, shoulders rounded forward, still processing.

‘‘Roman, your boyfriend?’’

‘‘Well, not really’’ Gerri smiles, despite Julia’s reaction, the very thought of him making her feel better.

‘‘What do you mean?’’

She tugs at her necklace and out comes her wedding ring, Laura’s eyes bugging out at the sight.

‘‘He’s my husband.’’

* * *

Laura is surprisingly supportive, asking all the right questions, letting Gerri tell her everything. When they say their goodbyes and agree where to meet up for dinner, she gives her a tight hug.

‘‘Jules will calm down. You know dad was her idol, and seeing him be replaced by Roman Roy of all people, the bad boy brat whose messes you’ve had to clean up more times than we can count… it’s gonna take a while, even though she acted all open-minded before. _I_ may know Dad was a shit husband, but let’s let her live in the delusion of his perfection.’’

Gerri looks away, this being the first time Laura had acknowledged she had any idea about Baird and his affairs. Though on a number of levels, Gerri always knew that she did, she was the more observant of the two.

‘‘This though - ’’, Laura continues, motioning to the Cartier pendant next to Gerri’s wedding ring, ‘‘- that’s how I know you’re really in love with him. No one knows the spear story but you and me, that I know of. And you wouldn’t tell just anyone about it.’’

Gerri grasps the spear in question, rubbing the pad of her finger over it, the calming ritual already so deeply engrained in her behavior she can’t remember not doing it.

‘‘I know I sound foolish, but, he means the world to me.I think he might be the one man I ever truly loved.’’

It feels liberating, actually saying those words out loud, and even better to know she was saying them to Laura.

’’And I just need you to remember one thing. The Roman I married is not the Roman of before. He was always who he is now, but had no means of expressing it, growing up in that family.’’ Gerri says, her heart leaping to her throat a little bit and Laura nods, understanding.

‘‘I know, mom. And you do not look foolish. Whoever dares say or even imply it, they will have to deal with me.’’

Gerri smiles.

‘‘Tonight, when I tell your sister about, you know-’’, she points to her wedding ring, ‘‘and she bites my head off, I’m leaving you in charge of letting Roman know he is a widower. You’ll need to be gentle, he is much more fragile than you think.’’, she jokes to lighten the mood, her teeth worrying her bottom lip.

Laura laughs heartily at her mother’s words, presses a soft kiss to her cheek.

‘‘It’ll be fine, I can handle Jules. We’ll see you tonight.’’

She gets in her Uber and Gerri watches it disappear in the distance.

 _Well, that could have gone worse,_ she thinks to herself, looking forward to the second shower of the day.

* * *

She boards the jet the following morning so relieved the ordeal is finally over. Julia had calmed somewhat, probably guided by her sister, and it was done. Dinner was quiet, they didn’t focus much on Roman, and Gerri realized it was all she could hope for in these early stages. The news of her marriage seemed to even further calm Julia. Maybe the knowledge her mother was indeed serious about it all was enough to send her into at least some sort of a stasis regarding her anger.

She still had to get them safely to the phase of actually meeting Roman in his new technical role of – _good_ _lord_ \- stepfather. If anything, there will never be a dull moment.

About halfway through the flight, she realizes there’s an ungodly amount of adrenaline coursing through her, bubbling up just beneath the surface of her skin, a high voltage-like hum buzzing through her entire body, and the fact that she misses him so much transforms that adrenaline into lust so overpowering she has to order herself to calm down and not in fact masturbate onboard a jet she is pretty sure is equipped with at least a few surveillance cameras.

She remembers briefly that said cameras probably captured her and Roman kissing before she took off, but decides she doesn’t care, it will all be out by next week. However, footage of her getting herself off onboard what is essentially Waystar Air Force One - that really would not go down well on her resume, so she keeps her hands to herself.

She crosses and uncrosses her legs, her brain, for some reason deciding to replay a selection of her and Roman’s most raunchy escapades, and her cheeks are so flushed she knows the flight attendant is convinced she’s having a hot flash.

The second half of the flight is pure torture and the car ride to the penthouse even more so. However, she is infinitely thankful she told him not to bother coming all the way to the airport to pick her up and that she would see him when she got home, because trying not to fuck him in the car on the way back would have been even more excruciating.

* * *

She ignores the doorman as he greets her, which is a first for her, as tied to social customs as she is. The elevator ride takes ages, and during it, she takes off her jacket, undoes the first few buttons of her shirt, running her hands through her hair.

She enters the apartment letting the door that slams behind her announce her arrival.

‘‘Gerr?’’

She hears him call out from the bedroom and she beelines it towards him, already shedding her skirt, still in her heels, her unbuttoned shirt floating in the slight summer breeze coming from the open terrace doors.

When she rounds the corner and enters the bedroom, he is on the bed scrolling through his phone, in his boxers, probably fresh from the shower if his wet hair was anything to go by.

‘‘Jesus’’, he mumbles as he catches sight of her, taking in her nudity, the disheveled appearance, breathless posture.

He practically crashes into her, his arms going round her waist, lifting her easily, her legs drawing him closer into her.

He devours her and she gasps into his mouth, so fucking ready for him, sliding her hand into his boxers, stroking him once, twice and that is all it takes to make him fully hard. She kisses him again, biting his lower lip, almost drawing blood, as he walks them back to the bed.

‘‘Now, Rome.’’

She is desperate and bossy, and he is in no mood to tease her, as horny for her as he has been for the past day and a half, without seeing her, hearing her voice, smelling her scent.

He swipes the fabric of her panties aside, enters her roughly and she stutters out a string of curse words, each filthier than the next as she arches into him, pulling him in deeper with her calves, her nails digging viciously into his ass, spurring on his erratic movements.

* * *

They lay in a soft, satisfied heap for a while afterwards, his head on her lap, her hand in his hair.

‘‘Your turn to charm the girls next time.’’

He lifts his head.

‘‘Christmas?’’

‘‘Yeah. Laura is already completely on board, but Julia is going to need some sweet talking. That’s where the Romulus Roy charm kicks in.’’

‘‘Romulus _Kellman_ , and don’t you forget it!’’, he nips at the crease of her thigh and she giggles.

‘‘Okay, okay, fine! Kellman’’, she says sweetly, tugging at his arm to get him to lay next to her. He aligns their bodies, just taking his time observing her face, his beautiful wife keeping him in awe every second of every hour of every day.

‘‘Love you’’, he murmurs into her lips, kisses her firmly.

‘‘Love you, too.’’

**PART 6**

Karolina hands her a stack of papers to review, and Gerri almost bulks under the weight of the folder.

‘‘Seriously?’’

‘‘Hey, don’t look at me, you were the one who said you wanted to see everything before you signed off, I’m just the messenger from legal.’’

Gerri sighs and starts packing up the papers to go over them in the car.

‘‘They’re all good though, if you trust me enough to take my word for it, you can just sign them now’’, Karolina says and Gerri could kiss her.

‘‘Thank god, there really aren’t enough hours in a day!’’, she says as she sits back down to start placing her initials on all the dotted lines.

‘‘Oh, and thank you again, for taking care of-’’, she looks about, lowers her voice even though nobody is around. ‘‘Roman’s birthday present. ‘‘

She sorts through the enormous pile, shaking her head in annoyance at the monster that is red tape.

‘‘No worries. Oh that reminds me, you need to give me the receipt for the second part of the gift.’’

Gerri nods, grateful. Technically it was his birthday present but it was really a two in one situation. He believes the two days in Montauk are his birthday gift, while in reality, for weeks, Gerri obsessed over what she would actually surprise him with, their time in Montauk a deliciously suitable red herring. She also added a subsection of the gift intended to be his engagement slash wedding present.

When she got the perfect idea, she enlisted Karolina’s help, as she was the only person she trusted with their secret and also, really, the most capable person working under Gerri.

She makes a mental note to call HR and let them know of Karolina’s raise, the woman was pure gold and needed to be valued as such.

‘‘Seriously, I think he’s going to love-’’

Gerri shushes her as she sees Roman on his way to her office and Karolina makes a zipping motion across her lips, smiling mischievously.

As he enters, he catches the little secret tete-a-tete, and arches a quizzical eyebrow.

‘‘Something you two ladies want to share with me?’’

‘‘Not unless you enjoy the idea of discussing merits and disadvantages of an IUD versus a diaphragm, because I am having a hard time choosing, birth control pills make me gain weight.’’, deadpans Karolina.

That shuts him up and he scuttles over to Gerri, takes a seat across from her, her trying really hard not to burst into laughter.

‘‘I just have to sign these and we are good to go.’’, she says, trying to keep up with the documents in front of her, not wanting to miss something.

They are scheduled to head to her place in Montauk that afternoon, but as per Karolina’s faked schedule for them, they have to leave the office together in the morning and pretend they are meeting with the Ryon representatives in Texas before ’’flying back’’ for the gala in two days.

‘‘That should be it. Karolina, can you please make sure these are deposited back with Legal?’’

Karolina nods, smiling.

‘‘Have fun you two!’’

‘‘Thank you! Come on, Rome.’’, Gerri calls out to him and he helps her with her jacket, stepping into stride next to her as they head to the elevators.

* * *

‘‘You must be the lightest travelling woman I have ever met, I think my carry-on is heavier than yours.’’, he muses, getting in the car after he settled their luggage in the trunk.

Gerri smirks into her coffee cup.

‘‘Think really hard Roman, as to why that is?’’, she looks at him from under her eyelashes and then it clicks in his brain why she wouldn’t need a lot of clothes. She sees him try and stop himself from palming the already tenting front of his trousers, giggles at his discomfort as he shakes his head, smiling at her from under the hair that falls over his eyes.

She was having their gala outfits messengered over to the venue, so that was another worry off her list.

Jonathan starts the car then and she settles against Roman’s shoulder, ready to enjoy the calm ride to their destination.

* * *

The cabin in Montauk was a decent sized family home, a house that, while Baird was alive, she kept forgetting was even in their ownership.

It had been his favorite assignation spot in the heyday of his disloyalty to her so she made it her mission, after he died - as the biggest fuck-off to him - to transform the house into a perfect weekend getaway location.

She had eradicated any and all signs of him from all of the rooms, his ’’man cave’’ in the basement now a sauna with spa amenities and the game room in the backyard a glass house with any and all imaginable plant-life, flowers, herbs and spices alike.

She knew the upkeep would be annoying, but it was worth it if it meant she had a place for herself when the corporate life got to be too much, which it often did.

She lets them in, looks around, happy to see that the cleaning crew did a good job sprucing up the place, she can smell the fresh linen in the air, that pure fragrance she was always so fond of even as a child.

‘‘God, if I could bottle the scent of just detergent on any type of fabric I would.’’, Roman says and she smiles at their synchronicity of thought. It would never stop being a wonder.

‘‘We are in the master bedroom, the furthest one down the hall.’’, she instructs, as he moves along the corridor to leave their bags and get situated.

She fires off one final text to Karolina and puts her phone on silent. No interruptions for the evening.

* * *

He opens the door to the bedroom, stunned at the perfectly Gerri-like space. The rest of the house had her vibrations embedded in the walls as well, but this room, this was her very essence encapsulated in interior design.

The vaulted oak beams over an enormous California king, set in sky-blue sheets, wide glass doors to the right of it leading out to a big terrace with a table, two chairs and a drinks station set out, seemingly in preparation for their arrival, all his favorite poisons lined neatly. He has no idea how she did it, but she also managed to acquire a bottle of Dalmore 62, a scotch he’d been planning on getting for ages. He falls more in love with her on the spot, though he hadn’t even thought it possible.

He looks further out into the room, sees a book-case with her favorite books lined up neatly. He approaches the spines and realizes, with an added layer of pride, that they were all well-read editions, none of that ‘‘for show’’ library crap.

He can see her so clearly, reading in this room in the evenings, that little furrow between her eyes when she gets absorbed in the story so endearing, her plump bottom lip caught between her teeth in concentration.

He slips out of his shoes and socks, works on shedding the rest of his clothes, sitting down on the bed. The soft mattress beckons him further in, and he reclines against the mountain of pillows.

He thinks about the fact that the next day he would be turning forty, and if someone had asked him even a year ago what he thought he’d be doing to celebrate that fact, he would have given them some lame-ass spiel about hookers and lines of coke in an underground club while in reality he’d be getting takeout, probably fending off mocking calls from Ken and Shiv, getting drunk until he passed out, with a hangover to match for the next day which probably would have led him to be an extraordinarily large piece of shit to everyone at the office – more so than usual.

But instead, he is a happily married man, about to spend two blessedly perfect days with the woman he loves more than life itself, worshipping every inch of her body over and over again.

He lies back on the soft, clean sheets, closes his eyes and inhales the scent of the summer night air. Pretty soon, unplanned, he’s asleep, the heat of the day finally getting to him.

* * *

She finishes up in the kitchen, checking whether all the food she had delivered was indeed stored properly before she finally turns and heads to the bedroom, intent on making up for all the kisses she was so hungry for.

She feels she hasn’t touched him properly in days, even though in reality it had only been that morning when he kissed her so thoroughly she almost called poor Karolina to cover for her again, never wanting to leave the penthouse.

As she comes through the door, the first thing she notices is her suitcase neatly placed on the floor next to her side of the bed, and then a sleeping Roman, completely dead to the world, snoring softly into his pillow.

She doesn’t have the heart to wake him just yet, knowing he was equally as exhausted as her, running Waystar was never anyone’s idea of a relaxing time, so she quietly gets all her toiletries and sequesters herself in the master bath, looking forward to a long shower.

* * *

_On some level, he thinks he knows it’s a dream, but that doesn’t really stop the dread fermenting in his gut, the leaden feeling of his feet as he trudges through what appear to be the empty offices of Waystar, once again ordered about by strange men with machine guns, broody and silent, his only hope of making it out alive his silence, a thing he’d never been good at, his heart thumping like a fucking jackrabbit, scared shitless, feeling useless and weak._

_It’s when they turn the corner and he hears the cadence of a familiar voice that he really flinches, insides turning to mush._

_Gerri is held at gunpoint, tears streaming down her face, Peter in front of her, half of his face missing, blood pooling around them, ankle-deep, like a vampiric plumbing disaster._

_The man doesn’t speak, simply turns to Gerri, and Roman can see it happen, sees the barrel of the gun and the bullet leaving it and he is running now, running as fast as he can, but it’s no use, his feet carry him exactly nowhere and as he watches Gerri’s lifeless body fall to the scarlet-colored ground, he hears himself howl, the sound knife-like in his chest, a plea for his captors to end his miserable existence, because without her he is nothing._

_When the bullets meant for him finally leave their guns, he is awake and soaked through with sweat._

* * *

She steps under the hot spray, enjoying the instant perfection of the temperature of the water as she hears him walk in the bathroom.

‘‘Rome?’’

He enters the shower lightning quick, and before she’s had time to say anything he has her pinned to the slick tiles, mouth on hers, taking her breath away.

She giggles into him, but his mouth is persistent, wanting, needy and she can immediately tell something is wrong.

She pushes lightly on his shoulders as he reluctantly stops his descent down her neck, chest heaving with exertion.

She looks at his face more closely, his eyes wild and unfocused, searching hers for…what?

‘‘Roman, what happened, talk to me?’’

He is shaking now, his face completely unreadable but she starts to get it.

‘‘A bad one?’’

The contours of his face change then, and the tension in his jaw threatens to overtake his entire body. He’s had nightmares before, she knows it, she has soothed him through a number of them, but this one was different. And she thinks she knows exactly why.

‘‘Honey, was it me this time?’’

A jerky nod is all she gets as an answer as he swallows hard, his eyes now focused on the mint green tiles behind her.

Thankfully, her dreams had always been vague, and so were her nightmares, merely a sense of foreboding floating about her bound subconsciousness, but she knew very well his were always painfully vivid.

‘‘I’m right here, Roman, see?’’

She presses his handss to the sides of her neck, her pulse loud and clear. When that doesn’t work, his shakes persistent, she decides on the route he was headed when he first came in.

‘‘I’m here. Look at me.’’, she hears herself order gently.

She pulls gently, her palm at the back of his neck, making him face her, afraid of losing him to another anxiety attack. This was close, but still salvageable.

‘‘Please.’’, she hears the tears in her voice now, bitter and strong. ‘‘Roman…make love to me?’’

He clings to her plea like it was a lifeboat, his arms grasping at her waist, lifting her into his body, lips crashing onto hers, tongue wild and hungry.

She turns in his hold, faces the wall, and he leans down, his lips tracking a soft, wet trail down her neck and onto her spine, tongue almost memorizing each vertebra. He straightens then, a gentle palm traversing down the side of her water-slick body.

He explores then, his breaths calmer but not completely panic-free, and she leans back against him, head on his shoulder, her lips on his neck, feels his fingers mapping her hip, the crook of her thigh and finally, they slip softly into her folds. She moans, the sound reverberating against the marble as he enters her, lips latched onto hers.

It’s indescribable, just how good he is at this, given his relatively limited prior experience. He swipes gently back and forth and into her, only enough to tease and then yanks her back to reality with a sharper slide against her labia, cupping and massaging roughly and she shudders violently, trying to control her reaction.

She is close, so close, but doesn’t want to come like that.

‘‘Rome, stop …need you, inside…’’, she struggles for breath as she feels his fingers leave her, leaning her forehead onto the backs of her hands, now pressed firmly against the wall, feeling him nudge her thighs apart with one of his, hearing him discard his boxers.

‘‘Oh god yes’’, she hisses as she feels him tease at her entrance, pressing backwards and bearing down onto him. When he is finally sheathed inside her she feels so fucking complete. His breathing is euphoric, and he bites her neck at the very pulse point he needs to reassure himself of, soothes the abused skin with a lick of his warm tongue His left hand is gripping her hip, his right cupping her breast so perfectly, the friction of his palm against her erect nipple spurring her hips backwards into him.

‘‘Roman…yes, yes, please, please…please’’, she has no idea what she is begging for, but knows that he will give it to her and just as she thinks no more pleasure can be wrung out of her, he bends her slightly further forward, changing the angle.

She muffles her screams against the back of her hand, still unaccustomed to being completely free with her passions, and as she comes, settling from the high slowly, he is still rock hard within her, and it appears he has a plan in mind.

His fingers are on her clit and together with the sensations of his hips still pistoning into her in a steady rocking pace she comes again, literal fireworks behind her eyelids. Just as she’s sure she can’t take a drop of pleasure more, he is still in control, and her third orgasm of the night washes over her like a tsunami a couple of minutes later. He comes then, too, along with her and she cranes backwards, pulls him in for a deep kiss. As she feels him start to move away, she holds him close, wrapping his arms around herself tighter, always wanting him inside her that much longer, feeling him cling back just as ferociously.

* * *

She leaves him under the spray while she gets a towel, wraps herself in it and then comes back for him.

‘‘Rome, come on, honey.’’

Soon, she has him back in the sheets in a soft robe, his eyes never leaving her form as she moves about the room shutting off the lights.

She climbs into bed with him, practically gluing herself to his side.

‘‘Hey. You feeling any better?’’

He is embarrassed, but she sees he’s trying to fight the feeling, knowing perfectly well there is no reason for shame, not with her.

‘‘Maybe we should call Kim for that joint session next week? Or would you rather talk to James on your own?’’

She knows he was really up for the idea of joining her for her therapy sessions but that he also has a lot of faith in his own therapist.

‘‘Kim. I need you there.’’, he says immediately, the fact he always needs her everywhere with him remaining unspoken but very loud to her. She is ecstatic at finally hearing his voice again, calm now, even though she knows his hands are itching to pull her in even closer.

She makes it easier on him, tugs his arms more comfortably around her body, his cheek fitting perfectly against her chest, knowing the sound of her heartbeat would calm him further.

‘‘You want to tell me about it now or should we leave it?’’, she asks, kissing him softly as he cranes his head to look up at her.

‘‘I…no. I’ll just keep seeing it.’’, she hears in his voice that he is parched, thinks about getting up and getting him a drink of water, but knows that if she does, he would be wide awake and she wants to try and get him to sleep for a few hours at least. The fear of falling asleep after a nightmare was usually what caused the following few sleepless nights.

‘‘Roman, I want you to listen to me now. Tonight and tomorrow is about you, your birthday, so whatever it is you want to do, we will do it. If you want to spend the day in this bed, watching movies together, or reading, that’s what we will do. But, after that, any day can be your birthday, you realize that right? No matter what the media says about me being the toughest playing new CEO, I will always put my family – you - first. All you have to do is talk to me, always tell me what’s on your mind. I’m here, honey, and I’m not going anywhere. Not today, not tomorrow, not for the foreseeable future.’’, she whispers to him, trying her best not to show how close to breaking she was, how much his pain is her pain.

He relaxes further into her at hearing the words he needed, his breathing evening out soon after, his exhaustion claiming him easily. Gerri doesn’t fall asleep until the early hours of the morning, some time after all her tears had dried up.

* * *

She is awake, he feels her even through the slumber still brimming over in his eyes, doesn’t even have to fight the urge to go back to sleep, he missed her so much. Missed her even though she was right there next to him all night, her gentle fingers weaving through his hair as he gave in to his exhaustion, the fear he had over another possible nightmare allayed by her scent.

‘‘Happy birthday.’’

He doesn’t think he’s heard those two words said to him in such a way, ever. He opens his eyes, her blonde curls the first thing to catch his attention. He reaches up a hand, winds one of the locks around his finger, watches it bounce back into a perfect ringlet, settling next to her smile, her wide, perfect blue eyes.

‘‘How did a trash heap like me ever get so lucky?’’, he asks, a small frown immediately settling on her brow.

‘‘I know, I know, but…you know what I mean. I was a wreck before you.’’

‘‘You were a diamond in the rough. Rougher than most, I’ll give you that, but still a gem of a work in progress. So, happy birthday, Mr. Kellman. What do you want to do first?’’

He thinks about it, and honestly, he has next to no idea. Just being with her in this perfect bed in this wonderful house away from the noises of board rooms and scheming executives and politicians is enough for him.

Her stomach chooses that moment to growl loudly and she blushes furiously, burying her face into his shoulder.

‘‘I think you may have answered your own question there m’lady. ‘‘, he smiles as he kisses her. ‘‘Come on, let’s get you fed, and then, I think I want to try out some of the board games I saw on that coffee table in the living room. Maybe not Monopoly because you would kick my ass immediately, but like Ludo or something, I haven’t played that since I was eight and Shiv decided it would be fun to stuff one of the dice up my nose. They almost had to cut it out of there.’’

Gerri shakes her head half in amusement and half in disgusted puzzlement.

‘‘I swear, every time I think we should be cutting her some more slack than we already are a tidbit of information like that one pops up and I just…’’, she shrugs, shaking her hand, not wanting to delve deeper.

‘‘Yeah well, Pinky was always the princess of the castle, there was no winning around her. Buuut…I get to win every day now.’’ He rolls over closer to her as she reaches for her robe.

‘‘No, don’t go yet, I wanted to tell you some other things I wanted to do today.’’

She turns then, cradles his face in her palms.

‘‘Let me guess. After Ludo you want to go for a round of jell-o wrestling?’’

His eyes bug out at that, her cackle delicious and intoxicating as he swallows it in another kiss.

‘‘You know, you keep saying things like that, I’m gonna begin to think I’m actually too tame for you.’’

‘‘Oh, sweetie, it’s only been three months since we got married…you have no idea. I wasn’t going to reveal all my deepest darkest desires off the bat, now was I?’’

He gulps, heart racing so fast he thinks it may have just popped out of his chest and left him for dead.

‘‘You…you cannot do that to me on my birthday.’’

She grins at him.

‘‘And I won’t. I promise.’’, she licks her lips and moves away, leaving him with his jaw dropped.

Damn it, that’s not what he meant. But, it’s too late and she’s already half way to the door as he bounces off the bed, fully naked, pinning her to the wall.

‘‘If you don’t let me go so I can get some food in me this minute’’, she says, giggling into his hair as he kisses her neck, ‘‘I will not let you get anything into me later on.’’

‘‘Ugh, you drive a hard bargain, wife. Okay. Food it is. I really hope you got some Froot Loops.’’

He bounds ahead of her, completely relaxed in his nakedness, feeling safe in this house of hers and she can’t help but wish the day could last forever.

* * *

Of course, it doesn’t and his phone goes off two rounds of Ludo in.

‘‘Karolina? What’s up?’’

Gerri checks her own phone, seeing three missed calls, only then remembering she forgot to turn the sound on after the events of the night before.

‘‘Thanks. Yeah, it’s been…educational.’’, he winks at Gerri as she aims a pillow at his face, hitting his nose square on, almost causing him to drop his phone.

‘‘Yeah she’s right here’’, he says, trying to stop himself from giggling. He hands her the phone, wanders off into the kitchen to get a soda.

* * *

‘‘What's going on, what did Karolina say?’’

She sighs into the couch cushions then gets up, rearranges the pieces on the board for the next round.

‘‘It’s a catering thing, and she can’t make it here on time to fix it, so we have to be at the venue tonight to oversee all the preparations and make sure the issues have been resolved, because tomorrow the sound tech guys will be taking over. She sent me the folder with all the important details. She did offer to cut her day short, but she is swamped with more important things than this shindig we’re organizing, so I said we’d do it. Do you mind?’’

He sits down next to her, laying them both down, pushing her softly into the back of the plush couch as he leans in for another one of his special birthday kisses.

‘‘You’re getting awfully good at that.’’, she breathes out, eyes glassy and pupils rapidly dilating. He will never stop being in awe of the way she reacts to him, never stop praising goddess Fortuna for gifting him with her.

‘‘I’ve had a good teacher. And as for the gala thing, no problem. We swoop in and save the day as the fuckin’ badass power couple we are.’’

He sees then that she isn’t with him anymore, going all quiet and pensive for a moment.

‘‘Gerr?’’

She looks back at him then, takes a deep breath.

‘‘Do you want your birthday present now?’’

‘‘What do you mean, isn’t this it?’’

‘‘Partially, I guess, but there is one more. Though maybe I am being presumptuous in calling it a birthday present, really.’’ She decides telling him about the announcement now should pose as part of his present until they get back home when she can give him the real thing.

He can tell she is nervous, her fingers playing with the edges of the couch cushion underneath them.

‘‘Gerr, come on, none of that. Whatever it is, I am sure I will love it.’’

She seems to steel herself for whatever she is going to do and then reaches up to the chain round his neck, unclasps it, letting the band drop onto her palm.

And all of a sudden he can’t breathe, thinks he can see where she was headed.

She gently takes hold of his left hand, settling the band where it was always meant to sit.

‘‘With this ring, I thee wed.’’

She takes the same hand then, leads it to her own necklace. Too scared of breaking the spell by speaking, he takes the band which slips easily off the chain and places it on her ring finger, trying to disperse the nerves.

‘‘Till death do us part.’’

And that kiss, even though most definitely not their first, is the first kiss of the rest of their lives.

* * *

‘‘So, what does this mean, technically?’’

She stares at her ring for a while longer, almost disbelieving of the fact it’s really in its true place.

‘‘We tell everyone and their mother and they can go fuck themselves if they don’t like it. Karolina basically feels that our clout with Joe public is growing exponentially and that we can now literally get away with anything short of murdering someone in cold blood on national TV.’’

‘‘Which, let’s face it - not that unexpected of a Roy. Luckily, come tomorrow night, everyone will know I’m not one anymore.’’ He can’t stop the humongous grin appearing on his face.

‘‘So, what are we thinking? Doing it during the initial address or the closing speech?’’, he asks.

‘‘Well, Karolina is doing the opening this time, so yeah, closing it is, if you’re okay with that.’’

‘‘If I’m okay with that? You have got to be kidding me, you gorgeous fucking ethereal creation!’’

She squeals out as he kisses her neck, his five o’clock shadow tickling deliciously.

‘‘Can I do it? Because I would really love to be the one to introduce my wife to a herd of losers desperately fawning over her, trying to get up her ass the whole time, knowing that now, they have to go through me.’’

‘‘Roman! Don’t be silly. You know by now my ass is firmly up against the wall any time any of those leeches come within three feet of me. One can never be too careful. ‘‘, she laughs, arms coming up and around his shoulders.

‘‘But to answer your question. Yes. You should do the speech if you want to, and I’ll just stand there look pretty for the dashing COO.’’

‘‘You know we’ll blind them all with how perfect we are.’’

‘‘Never doubted it for a second, honey.’’

* * *

‘‘Okay, here’s the plan – first we deal with the chef and the staff, I have a list from Shiv here as to what needs addressing; we have a lot of food allergy related things we have to mention several times. The last thing we need is that kind of scandal to be dealing with.’’, Gerri rattles off as they get in the car. ’’And then, we hightail it out of there as fast as we can, and try and salvage what’s left of our night.’’

‘‘Speaking of Elphaba herself, why isn’t she doing this? I get letting Karolina off the hook, she is busting her ass off on other shit, but Shiv should be over every aspect of this thing. I don’t care that her area is PR, it’s Karolina’s too and she has bent over backwards to make this yet another gold star on our resume.’’, Roman spits out, eyes on his phone, his inbox overflowing as ever.

‘‘Don’t get me started on little miss Polly Pocket from hell.’’ Gerri almost hisses, her head leaned against the car window.

‘‘It’s like she has been intent on getting Karolina out of the way. I don’t know what she hopes to accomplish by doing that. It was a mistake getting her on board for this. I don’t know, maybe she’s doing it just to see how many buttons of mine she can push. This catering situation is her idea. I remembered the name of the company from back when her wedding was still set to take place here. So I did a little digging. Turns out the owner is a friend, and ten to one she hired them now to slither back in their good graces after cancelling on them.’’

‘‘Chip off the old block that one.’’, he grumbles.

‘‘To be fair, you all hit a few twigs of the good old family tree on your way down, some more than others, but Siobhan…she smashed through a fair number of really thick branches.’’

Gerri’s anger for Shiv isn’t really about anything gala related. It is about her not even calling to wish him a happy birthday. Not one member of his family had called, or even so much as sent a lousy text. And Roman was very clever in disguising his sadness in his own version of indignation.

She scoots closer to him on the leather seat and grips his hand.

‘‘Remember, we both have our to-do lists, we run through them as fast as possible and we are set for the rest of our evening, okay?’’

‘‘Got it, Molewoman.’’, he smiles, leaning into her, kissing her one more time before he has to go out and pretend that he is not married to her and hide his left hand in his pocket to keep the ring out of sight. Just one more night.

* * *

The venue is a location very similar to the Argestes one, all dark wood features and high ceilings, fireplace after fireplace set in stone and an overpowering scent of old money and new alike clinging to every surface. Gerri abhorred it every year they were forced to attend.

But this time, it was a transformed haven, and she could see Karolina’s thorough, artistic touch in every place setting, every carefully chosen light feature and every flower arrangement.

‘‘This has got to be the definition of that new management we’re all about these days. Or maybe this is just what happens when you let women run the show. I feel like a Ferrero Rocher factory had a baby with the sugar plum fairy, I am living for this! I don’t know which way to turn and start processing.’’, Roman says as he looks around, Gerri beside him, nodding, satisfied.

‘‘We pared down the guest list, too. So tomorrow, less time will be needed to work the room and the smaller guest list adds to the appeal and VIP quality of the rebrand.’’

‘‘Okay, I have my tasks, you have yours. Reconvene here in thirty minutes?’’

‘‘You’re optimistic. But yes. Let’s go for thirty.’’, she agrees, knowing full well they’re stuck for the night.

* * *

‘‘Oh my God, I swear to you Gerr, if that head waiter dared give me more crap than he already was, ye old Roman would have resurfaced so hard, I would not have been responsible for my actions.’’

‘‘You’re one to complain. I had the chef himself hissing in my ear for about twenty minutes about how he will not be contained in his art by something as ‘trivial as measly allergies’ _._ Seriously, we still may have to double check the food again tomorrow, or better yet, I’ll put the fear of god into Shiv just like I did with the pompous French prick and she will do it, this is her fucking fault.’’

‘‘She deserves it, bride of fucking Chucky. Fuck, I am so tired!’’, Roman shouts out as they enter the house, toeing off his shoes, Gerri following suit.

‘‘Tell me about it. Thirty minutes turning into four hours wasn’t exactly what we had planned.’’

‘‘You hungry?’’, he asks and sees her make a face.

‘‘No thank you. I’ve seen and smelled enough raw meat, ingredients for vegan appetizers and cake frosting today to keep me full until tomorrow.

‘‘I don’t think I could stand to eat anything right now, either.’’, he faceplants into the couch, the cushions muffling his voice.

‘‘I am, however, in the mood for hot chocolate, you want some?’’, she asks, turning to walk to the kitchen.

He cracks one eye open, intrigued at the offer, despite the heat.

‘‘Maybe. But let me do it. The combo of my special recipe with a dash of rum liquor will knock you off your feet.’’

‘‘I am wiped out so it might not need much effort. You go ahead then, I’ll go and change.’’

* * *

They sip on their hot chocolate in bed, Gerri reading her book, Roman playing Sudoku on his phone.

‘‘Are we the old married couple or what?’’, he grins into his mug, adding a three and a five to complete the first of the medium levels.

‘‘Less of the old, please.’’, she laughs. ’’But yes, I see your point. Does it bother you?’’, she takes off her glasses and sets them on the night stand, next to her mug, turns to face him.

She looks a little worried and a bit too serious for his liking, and he reaches out to brush a few stray hairs out of her eyes.

‘‘Bother me? I love it! The peace and quiet of just sitting next to the person you love more than anything in the world? If I could keep you in this bed and in this house for all of eternity, I would. All to myself.’’

She is quiet for a while then lies on her back , eyes glued to the ceiling.

‘‘Baird…he always worked late.’’, she all but whispers. ’’I knew for a fact he wasn’t cheating then, I have the nose of a bloodhound for those sorts of things, the cheating only started a few years into the marriage, after Laura was born, and it never really stopped, mostly due to my complete lack of giving a fuck. But the first few years I wanted him there, just like this, just, coexisting, being a solid unit. It was the marriage my parents had, the union I always wanted. I guess I thought I could recreate it, hoped for it anyway. Even though each moment of my life with him always felt somehow off.’’

He doesn’t know what to say, so instead he opts for simply facing her, settling a hand on her hip.

‘‘Baird was a friend before he was anything else, and I made the mistake of thinking that my platonic feelings for him would one day morph into love. I think he did the same. Except when he realized he didn’t love me the way he was supposed to, he chose a path I wouldn’t have. And so, because of the girls, I chose to turn a blind eye. It wasn’t really hard.’’

Roman is quiet for a while after, simply looking at her, calm, inching his gaze across her face, observing her breaths. She lets him, enjoys the moment as she does any other that she has lived with him.

‘‘I, for one – though I would very much like to punch his fucking lights out for even entertaining the idea of cheating on you - would also like to thank him. At the risk of sounding like a total self-centered asshole, I know you would do anything for me, in a heartbeat, and I would do the same for you. So, maaaybe that’s the kind of marriage your parents had? I don’t know, I’m not an expert but it sounds close. I mean, everyone and their mother knows, or rather will know tomorrow, that you could have done way better for yourself, but I am selfishly thankful for the path you took that eventually led you to me. Your very own boy toy husband, slash work in progress.’’

She beams at him, looking for all the world like he had said all the right words, and he feels a bubble of pure warmth burst in his chest, forgetting to even reprimand himself for the sentimentality of his inner monologue. Fuck that noise. Live that life. Oh great, now he was that guy. Either way, mantra or no, she was there, in bed with him, on his birthday, and even though they are both too tired to do anything else other than sleep, he enjoys every bit of it, just because it is her. It will always be her.

**PART 7**

Karolina enters the room Gerri commandeered as their dressing room with her own outfit in hand, huffing with exertion, iPad in her other hand, shutting the door with her foot.

‘‘Here, let me take that, you take a seat, you look ready to keel over.’’, Gerri says.

Karolina hands over the items gladly, slumping down onto the nearest chair.

‘‘They’re having issues with the sound system, something about the power outlets and cables so I had to stop off at the band area first, and honestly, all men have is the audacity. He had the gall to tell me to, and I quote: _’’not worry my pretty little head about anything, they will be ready in their own sweet time_.’’???’’

Gerri swipes another coat of lipstick across her lower lip calmly.

‘‘Mhm. Siobhan?’’

‘‘I’m on it.’’, Shiv replies, already decked out in her forest green off the shoulder gown, hair swept up in a complicated braided updo.

When she leaves, Gerri turns to Karolina, face amused.

‘‘I had her supervise the caterers all morning, now she will whip the band into submission and later on, she is going to have to work that room so hard that by the time the evening is done she is going to wish she was dead.’’

Karolina starts dressing, mindful of her already done hair and makeup, Gerri helping her into her outfit.

‘‘Where’s your dress?’’’

‘‘Still in the bag. I was waiting for you, there’s was no way I was going to ask Shiv for help with anything ever again. The zip is a bit tricky.’’

She moves to the closet, taking out the dress from its carrier and hears Karolina gasp.

‘‘Gerri…it’s so beautiful. It’s…’’, she stops, seemingly unsure of how to finish the sentence.

‘‘You don’t think it’s a bit too, I don’t know…telling? Especially after we make the announcement? They’re going to think I planned it. But honestly, I just liked the dress, it was Shiv who pointed out it looks like a –’‘

‘‘A wedding dress. Yeah. And no, it most definitely is not too much. Gerri, give yourself license to do what you want. Be it tonight, giving yourself permission to tell the world: _’’this is the man I love and you all can go fuck yourselves if you don’t like it’’_ , or any other day of the week about literally anything.’’

‘‘Big dick energy’’, muses Gerri to herself as she adjusts the seams on the fabric.

‘‘The what?’’ Karolina asks, laughing.

‘‘BDE. According to Rome, I have it in abundance.’’, she says, running her tongue over the fronts of her teeth, taking care of any potential stray lipstick marks.

‘‘Well, all I can say is he is right. You just have to learn how to get comfortable with it. Own it. Being with him has done a good job of helping, I can tell you that.’’

‘‘Don’t I know it.’’ She smiles, uncinches her silk robe, steps into the dress, Karolina working quickly on the zipper.

‘‘So, Mrs. Kellman Roy. How does it feel, your wedding day?’’, she asks cheekily, Gerri smiling back in the reflection of the mirror.

‘‘Like it’s been long time coming. Honestly. I have to shake myself back to reality every time I catch sight of the ring.’’

She lifts her left hand, showcasing the ring.

‘‘I mean, I won’t flash it about for all and sunder or anything, and by thirty minutes in everyone will be too drunk to notice it, so this ring is staying put.’’

Karolina lifts her palms up at Gerri’s almost defensive tone.

‘‘At this point, all you have to do is try and relax, enjoy the night.’’

‘‘Oh, by the way, Rome wanted to be the one to do the speech at the end.’’

Karolina smiles, focusing on putting her earrings on.

‘‘I kind of figured he would. How did he react when you told him that tonight was the night?’’

When Gerri doesn’t answer the question, Karolina looks up and sees Gerri observing herself in the reflection, a disbelieving look on her face.

‘‘This really is my wedding day, isn’t it?’’, she whispers, a slow, glowing smile taking possession of her face.

Karolina hands her the clutch which finishes off her ensemble and kisses her cheek.

‘‘Congratulations, Boss.’’

* * *

Roman is in the bathroom as he gets a text from Shiv about the band members getting high in the back, and he half wishes Kendall was there to help him get them under control, slide down to their level. Though, on second thought Kendall might be a little too advanced for these guys.

He heads out into the throng of waiting staff milling about in preparation of the arrival of guests within the hour. As he turns towards the back door to meet with Shiv he is stopped dead in his tracks by the sight of Gerri entering the main ballroom.

His throat closes and his hands begin to sweat and he swears he can feel the echo of each of his heartbeats clang noisily against his ribs.

She looks beautiful. No, not beautiful, that is a weak fucking word to explain the vision she is. Her hair is down, parted to the side, falling in gently coiffed golden waves, brushing the tops of her shoulders. She chose her contacts over her glasses for the evening, her eyes glimmering in the light of the huge crystal chandeliers, matching the sparkle of the diamond necklace, the tear drop pendant settling, puzzle-like, in the hollow of her throat.

She doesn’t notice him immediately, but when she does, she stops in her tracks, her right hand immediately reaching out to her left. He sees her nervously twirl her wedding ring around, realizes he has been doing the same. She hides a smile, ducking her face slightly, the blush on her cheeks surfacing through her light make up.

And then there is her dress.

He can’t help it, he strides over to her, almost power walks, manages to stop himself just short of grabbing her by the waist and burying his face in her neck.

‘‘Gerri-…the-…you-…fuck.’’

She smiles, her eyebrow arching in pride, watching his eyes roam the length of her body, reading so well the ultimate chosen intention in the choice of attire.

‘‘All you’re missing is a bouquet.’’, he says.

‘‘Well, that, and…you want to know a secret?’’

He quirks his eyebrow, looking around, leaning in closer to catch her whispered words.

‘‘Always.’’

‘‘No spanx tonight either. Go big or go home, right?’’

He can’t stop the smile invading his features and ducks his head, dangerously close to planting a kiss on her lips, the bustling caterers be damned. At the last minute though, he comes to his senses, looks into her waiting eyes, winks encouragingly.

‘‘That’s my wife.’’

She keeps in a nervous laugh. Before she can allow herself a reprimand for acting childishly she remembers his BDE remark. So, acting on Karolina’s advice, she owns it.

‘‘As for the bouquet, I did think that would be too much’’ she says, smirking. ‘‘But then again, you might think of something to solve that problem towards the end of the evening’’, she says as she suavely plucks a white freesia from the closest flower arrangement, tucking it in his lapel. She lets her palm slide gently down his chest before she finally forces herself to let go of him and walk down the hall.

* * *

They seem to break away into quadrants, Shiv, Gerri and him, working the room, fielding questions and dealing with pleasantries from overzealous invites, giving soundbites to the select crème de la crème of the media representatives, and it all seems to be coming along swimmingly.

Him and Gerri end up posing for several photos for a few of the most relevant publications and he has a hard time keeping it professional, finds it very difficult to not let his hand slide to her waist or something even more scandalous, but the joy of what is to come later in the evening is what keeps him very calm and focused. Eyes on the prize, he tells himself as he snatches a wine goblet from the tray of a passing waiter.

* * *

Gerri is talking to Bjorn Jurgensen, head of the biggest charity in NY, The Youth Initiative, and in the middle of their conversation about branching out one of their scholarship programs she catches a glimpse of Shiv, on her phone, skulking to the back of the room, looking more than frazzled.

Karolina appears by her side that very instant.

‘‘I am sorry to interrupt, I may need to steal our lovely CEO for just a moment, if that’s alright?’’, she smiles at the unsuspecting Swede and Gerri follows suit making her excuses.

‘‘No problem, I know you are more than busy this evening, Geraldine. I will have my assistant send over all the details, and we can take it from there.’’

Grateful for one of the rare coherent and semi-pleasant conversations of the evening Gerri thanks him profusely, following behind Karolina. As soon as they’re out of everyone’s earshot, reaching a tiny alcove in the back of the room. Gerri stops, pretending to look through her clutch for something.

‘‘What is it?’’, she asks Karolina.

‘‘I saw you eyeing Shiv, you did not look happy, I figured I was about to be doing some damage control, especially given who she’s been talking to the entire evening.’’

This makes Gerri’s hair stand on end.

‘‘What do you mean?’’, she asks, teeth already worrying at her bottom lip. When she realizes what she’s doing, she forces herself to calm down, taking a sip of her drink, smiling at a passing guest. She thinks she should know the woman’s name but that is the last thing she can focus on.

‘‘Dewey and Datu, for one. She tried to intersperse her conversations, make it seem like she was mingling and making all the right connections, building up the rebirth of the Waystar brand – that is actually a sentence I have heard her use, don’t get me started – but eventually she’d always circle back to the old boys club. Logan’s cronies.’’, she finishes.

‘‘There is no such time like the present to start thinking of cleaning house. The fossils are really starting to irritate me.’’, Gerri grinds out, heel tapping against the floor, the sound of the violins helping soothe her nerves.

‘‘Point is, ‘‘, Karolina continues, ‘‘I think she just took a call from Logan. I can’t be sure, but…’’

And then it all clicks in place. The curve balls they’ve been thrown during this entire thing, the problem after problem Karolina was having with the organization as soon as Shiv got on board. It was bread crumbs thrown at Logan to show him she was still his loyal pet.

‘‘How could I have been so fucking gullible?’’

‘‘Gerri, come on. She is slick. And besides, she sort of blackmailed you into hiring her, she knew you were short for time and she was also banking on the whole ‘I was a hero and saved your life’ bullshit.’’

Gerri almost snorts.

‘‘Yeah, well, I’d say we have that debt settled.’’

Karolina nods, looking at her phone.

‘‘Text Roman, have him meet us in the dressing room.’’, Gerri orders quietly.

‘‘Way ahead of you, he’s on his way.’’

* * *

‘‘What’s up? ‘‘, Roman singsongs as he shuts the door behind him. ‘‘I kinda wanna go back there ASAP, Cyd promised me she would do shots with me if I got her husband to stop mainlining Southern Comforts and there is nothing in the world I want to see more than a drunk Cyd, I-’’ His giggles are cut short by the serious look on Gerri’s face. That, coupled with the way Karolina was standing next to her like the loyal sentry she is. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that the person missing from the room was the problem.

‘‘Oh, man, what did fucking Tuscadero do now?’’, he asks, rubbing at his temple, feeling a headache prompted by alcohol and sibling annoyance coming on strong.

‘‘Possibly worked with Logan ‘‘, Gerri says, teeth on edge. ‘‘He wanted an access ramp back to the company and I think she was building him one. She was cozying up to his pals all night. Fair enough, in a very slick, watered down way, even I missed it. Thank god for Karolina.’’

‘‘To be fair, I had a sort of head start. She was the biggest dot on my radar since she was brought on board. No offense Gerri, but I couldn’t trust her as far as I can throw her.’’

‘‘What’s the game plan?’’, Roman asks, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

‘‘Court marshal?’’, answers Gerri, her tone asking for his opinion rather than telling him. She takes a seat on the couch, settling the fabric of her dress so it doesn’t wrinkle.

‘‘Right here, right now? Corner her, take no prisoners shit? I’m for it, let’s go.’’

Through the anger simmering under her skin, Gerri manages to smile at him, marveling at how he always saw things from her perspective, so much so that at this point it was their perspective. An unusual type of symbiosis she wouldn’t trade for anything in the world.

* * *

‘‘Anybody wanna let me in on what’s going on here?’’, Shiv spits out as the three of them greet her, seated next to each other on the long couch. Roman can tell she is bothered, that she knows she is on the verge of being blown to bits by enemy shrapnel, but that she will cling to the front she built for as long as she could.

‘‘How’s the evening going? You talk to some interesting people, build a few New Waystar bridges?’’ he asks, smile wide, teeth shark like, threatening. Gerri crosses her legs, places a soothing palm on his forearm, smiling calmly at Shiv.

‘‘Who was that on the phone just now?’’ she asks, eyes never leaving her sister-in-law’s, head tilted in apparent innocent interest. When Shiv is uncharacteristically quiet, Roman pipes up.

‘‘We could do this the hard way or the easy way. So let’s cut the crap, Benedict Arnold.’’

Shiv smirks at him, the bravado fraying at the edges as her phone shifts in her hold.

‘‘We need to be back out there in a few minutes. Make it easier on us. What was your end goal?’’, he continues.

There’s a shift in Shiv’s eyes then. Kind of like the third eye-lid flapping across a snake’s gaze, her cold stare drops all the pretense it held seconds before.

‘‘Okay then’’, she chimes calmly, takes a seat across from them.

‘‘You know what the game is like…playing both sides. You both did it, most notably during the vote of no confidence. You both sold Kendall down the river faster than he can snort a line of blow. To be honest, I understood it. I think it was the first time I saw that the two of you were more alike than I thought. It was that moment that made the two of you ending up married highly believable to me. My point is, can you blame me for doing my own thing?’’

Gerri nods, can’t fault some of the logic, the fishbowl world of corporate tag was always unpredictable, and one did have to work to stay afloat, get to the feed before the others.

‘‘The difference being, Siobhan, that what we did during the vote of no confidence was done purely for reasons of survival. Did you think Logan would let us get off scot-free if we hadn’t backed him? Kendall’s little coup was annihilated by uncle Ewan and there was nothing to be done. You, however, had a choice. Lean into the New Waystar - as we have heard you call it on a few occasions lately - or align with dear old Daddy. Your mistake is not being able to pick a side.’’

‘‘And I guess yours is that you let me know of your marriage. So, since I don’t really think staying on Dad’s side would work out for me, especially as tonight has shown me that not even members of that decrepit social network want to be associated with him anymore. I think it’s time for cards on the table.’’

It is hilarious to Roman how she seems to think this was in any way a ship steered by her at this point. He eyes Gerri briefly and her calm posture tells him all is good. Karolina is on Gerri’s other side, typing away on her phone, a fact that makes Shiv all the more enraged.

‘‘By all means, go on.’’, Gerri smiles, and Shiv fidgets in her seat before she catches herself, hands coming to rest on her knees.

‘‘I want to be made head of PR’’, she looks at Karolina who doesn’t respond in any way, which Roman knows makes Shiv angrier, her upper lip twitching with everything she has to hold back.

Gerri’s breath catches in her throat slightly at the unexpected and rather blunt request but she comes to rather quickly. She turns to Karolina.

‘‘Can you give us a minute?’’

Karolina nods, Gerri able to notice a hint of apprehension in her eyes. She tries not to react, not to comfort her, hopes that Karolina knows that no such request would ever be taken into consideration.

She leaves the room and Roman gets up from his seat, stalks over to the bottle of Macallan’s on the drink’s cart in the corner, pours himself a healthy dose. He doesn’t ask Gerri if she wants any, knows she abhors the stuff. He turns to Shiv then.

‘‘Or what?’’

As calm as anything, Shiv’s face stretches into a cold porcelain doll smile, the face of a person who thinks they’ve won at life.

‘‘Or I go public with your marriage. I compiled a nice little story. It’ll be very scandalous. No way of managing the public if the narrative is yanked from under you, remember? And I think maybe Nan will be interested on what I have to offer. We all know what she can do with a grain of intrigue. And this isn’t a grain, it’s a whole silo.’’

Gerri is calm, though he knows the very thing she would like to do at that moment is scalp Shiv. Not for the threat itself, it was moot, the announcement they had planned and were wise enough to keep from Shiv would put them back in the driver’s seat. It is the sheer amount of gall on display that gets to her.

So, she plays the game. Always the fucking game. They are both exhausted from it.

‘‘For a minute there, I thought the dark side had lost you to the light, but apparently you were just busy smashing a few more light bulbs. Well then. Would you give us until tomorrow at least to figure out how the transfer would happen? We need to find somewhere to place Karolina. As loyal as she may be to me and Roman, she won’t take kindly to this without some sort of payout.’’

‘‘Do what you want. The day after tomorrow though, I want you to tell everyone. Got it?’’

Oh, she is playing with fire, Roman thinks. Once the evening was done, Gerri would have her ass.

‘‘Tell everyone. Got it.’’, Gerri says airily, getting up from her seat.

Shiv leaves then, so sweetly blind to what’s right in front of her, unable to see that her battle was ‘‘won’’ too quickly. The desperation to get out from under Logan’s thumb must be at an all time high.

She all but slams the door behind her.

‘‘I swear, you need the archives of the witch trials to think of a suitable way to get back at her.’’, Gerri murmurs. ‘‘I should have known she was just building a database. I really shouldn’t have thought that my experience with you means any of the other Roys have actual souls.’’

‘‘I would like to say I saw it coming, but I think she even had me fooled for a minute there.’’ He puts his arm around her waist, leans in for a soft peck, mindful of her makeup. ‘‘Besides, I think what she will hear pretty soon will feel similar to being dunked in a freezing body of water, so there’s your Maleus Maleficarum right there. Talk about taking away the narrative.’’, he grins as she moves for a deeper kiss, and he realizes just how much he missed her lips for the past three demonic hours of playing at being everyone’s favorite Roy heir. He can’t wait to shed the name officially and for good. She fixes her lip gloss quickly, loops her arm through his and together they walk out to end the evening with a bang.

* * *

He breaks away from Gerri as soon as they hit the crowd, tells her he needs to use the restroom.

He rounds the first corner, having seen Shiv disappear in that direction.

When he reaches her on the tiny stairwell between the first and second floor, her phone in her hand, he blocks her way back to the party.

‘‘Hey there. Wanna let me in on what that little performance was all about?’’

Bless her, she even tries to act all innocent, knows she will try and buddy herself up to him, relying on the fucked up rapport the two of them used to have. He can’t believe she doesn’t see that connection isn’t there anymore. He isn’t even really sure it ever truly existed.

‘‘You really don’t know when to spot a good thing in life, do you? You always have to play both sides. Never having enough business acumen to see off the bat who your friends are. Lemme clue you in, _Pinky_ – ‘‘, he sees her flinch slightly at Logan’s preferred nickname for her. ‘‘You have no idea how fucking good life would have been on Gerri’s side. But I guess you made your choice. You are head of PR, congratulations. I don’t know how you think that means you’ve won this game of chess, but I’ll let you have the moment, you know, for shits and giggles.’’

He then physically feels his voice slide several octaves lower as he approaches her further, a hot-lead sensation in his entire chest, breaths in his throat feeling like some kind of acidic mist. He tries to calm down.

‘‘If I were you, I’d watch my step around the two of us from now on. You have no fucking idea what I am capable of doing for that woman.’’

He doesn’t know what exactly it is that he did, but Shiv’s looks petrified and when he spots his reflection in the window behind her, he can’t recognize himself. Mr. Hyde in all his glory.

Shiv sees him now, too, owning the space they’re in. her brother is gone, in his stead is a man so in love with his wife he would stop at nothing to protect her. She gathers enough wits about herself to pretend none of his words are fazing her, slowly and carefully moving away from him.

‘‘Get it together Ro Ro, it’s just business you know that.’’, she says, voice shaken, trying to keep it together.

He smirks, pins her with his gaze one more time.

‘‘Enjoy your new position, sis. And watch your back.’’

* * *

‘‘Ladies and gentlemen, your host, Roman Roy!’’

The MC steps aside as Roman takes center stage, glad to notice the mic is set exactly to his height.

He looks out to the sea of invites, focusing on Shiv’s hungry stare, seemingly back in full force despite their little conversation, and he can imagine she is already rubbing her grubby little hands together like a horse fly at the very thought of taking over from Karolina, sucking on that sweet victory nectar before it was even produced.

‘‘First off I would like to thank you for gracing us with your presence - and your money - at what we at Waystar hope is the first of many more annual end-of-summer galas, in its new and seriously improved fundraiser form.’’ He smiles and waits for the round of applause and amiable laughter to die out.

‘‘As you know, the past few months have been a turbulent ride for us at Royco, but together with our new CEO and the tenacity of each of our devoted employees, we have managed to make a turnaround, and create the start of a renaissance within our ranks, ranks that are now tighter than ever.’’ He can almost feel Gerri rolling her eyes at the amount of manure coming out of his mouth, but they both know the platitudes are necessary, and he knows he’s delivering, judging by the looks on the faces staring up at him.

‘‘I would like to finish this evening off by sharing something with you. In fact, I’d like our fearless leader to join us on stage before I do. CEO of Waystar Royco – Gerri Kellman!’’

Gerri glides out from the wings to his right and is by his side in seconds, and he tries to keep focus as she loops her arm through his, beaming at him briefly before facing the audience.

‘‘Good evening, I trust you’re all having fun?’’ another round of applause rings out as she keeps smiling so hard she thinks her cheeks are going to stay frozen that way. But then she remembers why she is really up there, feels lighter than air immediately, the smile genuine.

‘‘Tonight has been a major success and all our fundraising goals have been met. I would also like for you to give a round of hearty applause to the official organizers of tonight’s event - Karolina Novotney and Siobhan Roy.’’

Karolina nods gracefully and Shiv tries to mask her annoyance, Roman seeing the anger in the tightness of her neck, the barely held back growl in her throat. She knows she is about to be fucked, just doesn’t know where it’s going to come from.

‘‘We are going to leave you with one more thing before we go.’’, Gerri continues. ‘‘Roman and myself are up here together tonight to let you in on a little, well, I suppose one could call it a family secret, of sorts. Rome?’’

He nods, turning back to the sea of faces, locating Shiv’s easily, the smile she had on before now firmly dropped, eyes cautious and twitchy, the nervous tic she had as a child when something wasn’t going her way making an appearance.

‘‘This is not something we were happy at keeping from anyone, but rather a private matter that needed to remain on the sidelines while myself and Gerri here focused on getting the company back on its feet, keep it safe and steady on its course.’’ He sees the confusion on the people’s faces. Frank is frowning, clearly unsure where this whole thing is headed. Carl looks as lost as he always does, and the sight of his stupid face reminds Roman to talk to Gerri about reassigning him somewhere, he really cannot stand to look at him every day anymore. Which goes double for Laird, who is standing next to Carl, also looking like an idiot.

‘‘And seeing how in these past three months we have most definitely been able to do that, we figure now is the perfect time to share with you this very important fact about us. I would like to introduce myself to you again. You may have once known me as Romulus Roy, the incorrigible Roy dynasty bachelor, but I am beyond happy to tell you, that for the past three wonderful months, I have in fact been...Romulus Kellman.’’

The unified gasp of the attendees is loud and so is the silence that follows. Roman was expecting it, and so was Gerri, so he simply continues.

‘‘And this is my beautiful wife, Gerri Kellman Roy.’’, he looks to her and she smiles, and he thinks he feels the ground sway slightly under his feet, the feel of her arm in his keeping him steady. He slips out the freesia from his lapel, places it in the palm of her hand, lifting her inner wrist to his lips, placing a soft kiss on the warm pale skin.

He completely ignores the other people in the room, as does she, and he finally, _finally_ , leans in to kiss her fully, his arms going round her waist, smoothly dipping her like he’d been doing it for years. The sudden sound of the crowd whooping and cheering them on breaks their little bubble.

Flushed and grinning, they come back up for air, facing the audience. Exclamations of ‘‘congratulations’’ and deafening applause sound out for a few more seconds, and then Gerri takes over.

‘‘Thank you. We are very grateful that we have such a close community, so much so that we could feel safe to share this information with you in this way. Also, Roman and I would like to thank one more person for being our secret keeper. For being the staunchest of allies during this time. Siobhan, where are you?’’

All faces turn to a now crimson-faced Shiv and Roman thinks she may actually barf right then and there, but sadly, she gets her bearings enough to smile that weak, fake smile she reserved for work functions. Nothing new there, but for the bloodied whites of her eyes flashing in the chandelier light, proof she had burst quite a few blood vessels. Fair enough, she had just been marked for slaughter with Logan. He makes eye contact with Karolina who cannot hide her happiness for them and the smirk which she directs at a departing Shiv.

* * *

He disappears from her view for a moment after they come down from the stage and when she sees him again he’s whispering something to the DJ. When she hears the first few piano chords, she has to look up to the ceiling, take the deepest of breaths, not wanting to risk tears ruining her makeup _. I Let the Music Speak_.

He walks to her through the crowd that somehow parts for him like the Red Sea. The MC is back then, making their introductions.

‘‘Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. and Mrs. Kellman-Roy.’’

‘‘May I have this dance?’’, he asks, and she takes his hand as they walk out onto the middle of the dance floor.

_’’Let it be the joy of each new sunrise_

_Or the moment when a day dies_

_I surrender without reservation…’’_

She lets herself be enfolded by him, tuning every other person out. It’s just the two of them then, in the happiness of the first official dance as a married couple. The tears have long ago stopped asking for permission to fall, a steady stream of them decorating her cheeks. She is sure she must look awful, but when he leans in and kisses them away, she knows she couldn’t care less.

**PART** **8**

‘‘Good god, I didn’t know it was possible to sweat so much!’’, Gerri breathes out getting out of her dress, Roman helping her with the zipper.

‘‘You’re telling me, my feet were so wet, I thought I was going to slip and fall straight onto my face.’’

They look at each other then, unable to stop themselves from bursting into a fit of laughter.

They had mingled for an hour, being congratulated after their surprise announcement, trying not to read too into each person’s words, knowing there was bound to be some doubting Thomases and ones who simply didn’t understand them.

Karolina had prepped for the post-announcement maelstrom, ready to tackle any unwanted press, and accept any and all interview requests she believed would yield positive press. Gerri had one condition for all of them – both of them or neither. They would always present a united front, professionally and personally.

The one person they really wanted to catch up with was nowhere to be found. Shiv must have hightailed it right afterwards, maybe to do some damage control with Logan. Due to the presence of the press, they knew the news was no doubt already all over social media.

Karolina told them she would wrap up the evening so they said their goodbyes and headed back to the house for a good night’s sleep before an early morning trip back.

‘‘What were you whispering to Karolina about just before we left?’’, he asks, tugging off his pants, somehow managing to stay upright despite the number of drinks in his system.

‘‘Oh, nothing, she was telling me how up close, Shiv’s reaction was even better. Shame we couldn’t be nearer.’’, she says, and Roman feels there’s more to it, but he leaves it be for the moment, he is so tired he thinks his eyelids may actually be made of lead. Gerri is glad he doesn’t ask further questions, the little emergency conversation she had with Karolina involved giving her the extra set of keys to the penthouse since she forgot to do so before they left for Montauk.

‘‘Shower or no shower?’’, Gerri asks, leading him away from the topic, slipping out of her undergarments, trying to tamp down the lust that creeps up as he eyes her up and down, knows they’re both very much wiped for the night.

‘‘Bed, now. If either one of us got in the shower, we’d slip and break our necks, I don’t think I want to give Shiv the satisfaction.’’

‘‘Fair point’’, she nods and heads to her side. ’’Though I would like it noted that, though the dress implied that today was our symbolic renewal of vows ceremony or whatever, we already had our wedding night on the yacht – even if it was during the day - and I will not take this to mean that we missed out on wedding sex.’’

He giggles into her flushed skin as she slides further under the covers.

‘‘Tomorrow, though, I feel like going at it for hours, falling asleep with my face between your legs.’’

‘‘Roman, right words, wrong timing’’, she murmurs into his neck, feeling herself get irrevocably wetter, but completely unable to lift a finger to do anything about it.

‘‘I know, I just wanted you to know.’’

She shakes some of the sleepiness out of her eyes as she lifts his chin up, makes him face her.

‘‘I always know, honey.’’

He kisses her then, long and deep and soothing, his tongue persistent and perfect in her mouth, and she slides into the feeling of coming home. Which is when it hits her.The path she was on for her entire life before him led her to this very moment in time.

They fall asleep within minutes, his face pressed against her chest, her arms around his shoulders, bodies completely entwined.

* * *

She doesn’t know exactly when she wakes. The first thing she is aware of is a steady but light pressure in her lower stomach and as she shifts to settle better against the sheets, she feels the tingling swipe of his tongue down the length of her slit. She stutters out a gasp, hands reaching out to grip the silk underneath her, legs accommodating him further, pushing herself deeper into his talented mouth.

They don’t speak, sleep still clearly clinging to both their bodies, but even in such a drowsy state, he knows what she needs, as his tongue circles her clit so precisely she bucks once, twice into him and he steadies her further, settling both of his hands on her hips, pulling her legs more comfortably onto his shoulders.

As he enters her with his tongue she notices, through the haze of pleasure, that it’s different, somehow. It’s way more intense, and she had no idea that when it came to sex with him that such a thing was even possible.

She ducks her hand under the sheets covering them, threads her fingers through his hair, encouraging, pushing into his mouth, her hips finding a matching rocking motion complementing his so perfectly she thinks she could cry. And when she feels him do something unique only to her own, highly personal masturbatory sessions, and does it better than she could ever have executed the move herself, she knows he must be in her head, rooting through her innermost thoughts and memories.

Her free arm comes up to her face, covering her eyes, the sheets on her chest adding further to the sensation of imminent explosion, rubbing against her hard nipples.

The uphill climb is never-ending and just when she thinks she can’t take it anymore, she feels him slip a single finger deep inside of her, crooks it just right, swiping it softly, firmly, perfectly against her G spot.

She nearly convulses, caves in on herself, a guttural scream wrenched from her throat.

‘‘Oh god, Roman, fuckfuckFUUUUCK!!!!’’

It takes a moment, or an age, she’s not sure, but when she finally becomes aware of her surroundings again, she can register two things. His panting breath against the inside of her thigh, for one. The other is slightly harder to believe. The sheets under her are soaking wet and she yanks the covers off their bodies.

‘‘Did I just-’‘, she stammers out in shock.

‘‘Yes you did, goddamit, fuck,Gerri! That was the hottest thing ever, holy fuck!’’

She laughs, amazed at the fact that she squirted, for the first time ever, and at her age. She looks at his amazed, breathless face, swipes a palm across his mouth, her hand coming away sticky with her own juices, her body already prepared for round two.

Without even thinking about it, she slides towards his on the mattress, straddles him, takes him by surprise as she bears down onto him, a deep moan escaping his lips as he grunts and thrusts upwards into the delicious heat.

* * *

Another two orgasms each later and they’re both fully awake and starving. Gerri strides to the bathroom and he runs to catch up.

‘‘Nuh-uh, no time for that. We have a thing in the city we have to be ready for, so we have to pack up and get going, Jonathan is due to pick us up in an hour.’’

He frowns, mentally going through their schedules, hers being almost engraved in his mind.

‘‘I didn’t think either of us had anything set for today?’’

‘‘What are you, a Gestapo officer? I am your CEO and you will do as I say.’’ She says, fighting to keep a straight face. ‘‘Now, go on down and make me some coffee.’’

‘‘Damn, woman, alright.’’, he laughs, leans in to kiss her, but before he can take it any further she is shooing him away again, eager to start their day, to get back and see his reaction to his present.

As he leaves, she catches sight of her ‘wedding bouquet’, the single white freesia, caught in the pool of fabric of her dress on the floor. She picks it up, wanders over to her bookcase, scanning the titles until she finds the one she is looking for - her favorite book, a collection of Robert Frost poems. The edition opens easily, onto the most read page, the one containing her favorite poem.

_The aim was song—the wind could see._

Her eyes drift across the well known verses talking of a man taking something as unpredictable as the forces of nature, taming it and turning it into something beautiful.

She smiles as she settles the freesia softly onto the paper and closes the book, putting it back on its shelf.

* * *

Karolina texts her as they are getting in the car to let her know she will be delivering the gift approximately twenty minutes before they arrive back at the penthouse, which Gerri is ecstatic about.

‘‘What are you grinning at?’’Roman asks, trying to catch a peek of her screen, her tilting it away just in time.

‘‘Has anyone ever told you that you have the patience span of a toddler?’’

‘‘Yes. You.’’, he deadpans, lip curving upward as she shakes her head, typing a reply to Karolina, then putting away her phone.

She notices Jonathan looking their way in the rearview mirror several times in the first fifteen minutes of the drive and she knows there’s something he wants to say, thinks she knows what it is.

‘‘Hello, Jonathan.’’, she surprises him by catching him on his next look back to them, and Jonathan lets out a deep grumbling laugh.

‘‘I’m sorry, ma’am, I was just trying to think of a way to, well, congratulate you. It may not be my place, but I have to point out that, well, I know it was difficult for you, not telling anyone.’’

Roman is speechless, his cheeks bright red, but he smiles at Jonathan via the refection. She makes a mental note to have man’s Christmas bonus this year be twice the usual amount by way of gratitude.

‘‘Thank you.’’, she says softly, and the three settle into the drive back, the soft whoosh of the asphalt beneath them the only sound until they reach the city.

* * *

His phone is full of texts. Tabitha, Connor, Caroline (he deletes that one immediately, decides to deal with her last). And finally, a whole string of missed calls from Kendall. The one sibling he actually wished had called him on his birthday, the traitorous bastard.

Turns out, the only thing that will get him to contact his brother is the possibility of a stronger threat within Waystar. He’s not blind to Kendall’s desire to be CEO, that was one of the bigger reasons behind his entire press conference coup. But now, with the numbers Karolina presented them with, it is most likely Gerri will be voted into the position permanently, and soon. Roman knows Kendall is only looking to learn more about this new development and his opponent.

Fuck him, Roman thinks as he deletes his brother’s number. It’s symbolic, he can reach him whenever he wants to, but the moment feels healing all the same.

Gerri is looking at him, reading his mind, he can almost feel her, the thought melting his insides. He lets his hand slide into hers, leans against the elevator wall, pulls her against him.

‘‘The freedom to be able to do this now, whenever, almost wherever I want…you have no idea what it means to me, Gerri.’’

She presses a feather-light kiss to his jaw, and he feels her smile.

‘‘Oh, I think I have a fairly good idea.’’

* * *

She starts fidgeting as they’re about to enter the foyer and just as he is about to comment on it, she grabs his wrist gently, stopping him.

‘‘Gerr?’’

‘‘There’s a surprise for you in the bedroom.’’, she breathes out, clearly nervous for some reason. ’’But I want you to know, that if you don’t like it, you have to say. It’s…well, you’ll see why. It’s a big decision and I probably shouldn’t have made it without you, but…I guess I’m just a hundred per cent sure you will like it. Well, ninety nine per cent now.’’ She laughs, and Roman could take her in his arms right then and there, kiss her senseless, but he sees this is very important to her, so he calms down, slides a finger down her cheek, presses a soothing kiss on her lips.

‘‘You didn’t have to get me anything else. Last night, the past three days, really, have been all the presents I will ever need for the rest of my life, Gerr! But I can assure you, whatever this is, I’m sure I will love it, simply because it’s from you. Now, come on, I wanna see what has the unflappable Molewoman so nervous! Ooh, is it a hooker? Did you get me a threesome for my birthday?’’

‘‘I’ll smack you across the mouth, you little worm, are you trying to annoy me? Also, you in a threesome? Give me a break, you can barely handle me on my own.’’, she bites back, hiding a satisfied grin at their trademark banter, the one thing guaranteed to get them back on track in almost any situation.

‘‘True, but that’s because you’re like, five-women-hot all wrapped in one.’’

Their laughter booms out into the living room and she goes on ahead of him, opening the door, but letting him in first.

He doesn’t see what the present is at first, his eyes checking the vanity, the floor and the terrace doors first. But then, his eyes focus on their bed and the fluffy blanket, in the middle of which sleeps the most adorable St. Bernard puppy.

* * *

He doesn’t even try to stop the tears. There seems to be an unlimited supply of the stuff in his eyes lately, and he can’t say he really matters. He was way overdue for all the emotion anyway.

He approaches the bed gently, climbing on, trying not to wake the puppy, turning to Gerri, stood at the foot of the bed.

‘‘I-…when did you even…’’

‘‘Karolina helped, obviously, I don’t know where I would be without her. But, I picked her up. She’s three months old, a puppy mill rescue, I had to fake that spa afternoon the day I got back from Chicago to drive over to Newark so you wouldn’t get suspicious. I had a choice between a boy and a girl, but something told me you’d prefer a girl. Karolina’s husband took care of her while we were in Montauk.’’

‘‘I love her, Gerri! She will be the baddest bitch on the block. What’s her name?’’, he asks, his voice almost a whisper, running his hands down the dog’s back. The pup is snoring steadily, the vibrations of her tiny breaths incredibly gentle.

‘‘Well, she doesn’t technically have a name yet, but on the drive back, I called her Molly. She looks like a Molly.’’

He leaves the dog on the bed for the moment, coming to stand next to Gerri, pulling her in his arms.

‘‘Molly it is.’’, he whispers, cups her face, kissing her slowly, thoroughly, still in so many ways unsure of his words, choosing instead to express himself nonverbally. She presses herself closer, kisses back just as deeply, tasting his tears.

‘‘There’s another part to all of this.’’, she says as the kiss ends. ’’But I can see you’re reluctant to wake her, we might have to wait a bit.’’

Molly chooses that moment to lift her little head, yawning widely. Roman’s face scrunches in glee, and she presses another kiss to his cheek before he moves to the bed again.

‘‘Gerri, I swear, she is going to make me lose all my street cred because the only thing I will ever do when walking her or taking her anywhere will be talking to people about how fucking awesome she is.’’

‘‘You say that like you had ’’street cred’’ to begin with’’, she says, smirking.

‘‘Oh ha-ha, very funny. Now come on, tell me, what’s the second part?’’

‘‘Get closer to her and you’ll see.’’

‘‘Hey Molly, hey girl, hi. I’m your new dad. And not like a shitty dad, but like a take you to the arcade let you stay past midnight with popsicles kind of dad, and I-’’

He stops short, spotting Molly’s collar, a pendant on a leather strap and he’s not sure if his eyes are playing tricks. He brings her up into his lap, Molly immediately nudging her little head up into him, licking at his chin.

‘‘Molly will keep yours safe next to hers.’’, Gerri says, soft laughter already bubbling in her throat.

He stares at the tiny rectangular metal dog tags with their address and a space for Molly’s name on one and _Property of Gerri Kellman Roy_ neatly engraved on the other.

He carries the puppy over to her, not taking her eyes off hers. She pets the animal's tiny head, motioning for him to hand her over. He does and Gerri takes her into her proper bed, in the guest bedroom next to theirs. Once she settles her in it, she gets up and takes his hand, leading him back to their bedroom, and out to the terrace.

‘‘There’s a groomer scheduled to come every month to deal with her coat and all that’’, Gerri says as she gently wipes the remnants of his tears away, and Roman nods, holding her close.

‘‘And her food and vitamins are in the kitchen, we both need to go through the instructions to know exactly what we’re allowed to give her and when. Oh, and she needs to be walked twice a day, but if you want we can get a dog walker for that, it’s not good if their routine deviates. If we’re at the office, she needs to be walked at regular intervals.’’

He gasps dramatically, clutching his chest.

‘‘I am _appalled_ that you think I would let my baby be walked by anyone other than myself or yourself when you so wish, Gerri Kellman Roy. And you already know she’ll be coming to the office with me every day.’’

If she was being perfectly honest, she was expecting just that turn of events. She smiles and pulls out her phone, shows him a few pictures Karolina had taken earlier.

‘‘That’s her corner in your office. Bed, toys, the whole playschool. But, she will need an obedience course before we take her to work with us, I have one scheduled, it starts tomorrow, lasts two weeks. Karolina has a guy who trained her pit-bull.’’

‘‘Why doesn’t it surprise me at all she has a pit-bull?’’ he laugh and Gerri nods in agreement.

‘‘Right? Steadfast, tenacious and loyal – Karolina all the way.’’

She clears her throat, sliding her glasses up, looking at him, a wicked glint in her eyes.

‘‘Okay then, I think that about covers everything dog related for now’’, she declares. ’’Now, how about you tell me your thoughts on one thing.’’, she says, holding him tighter. ‘‘Tonight. I was thinking…Bourbon Bedtime?’’

He bursts out into a fit of giggles at hearing the words come out of her mouth and she joins him, buries her face in the crook of his neck.

‘‘No need to fuckin’ tell me twice, I am all in. Always all in where you’re concerned.’’

She turns in his arms, looking out at the city. They are quiet for a while, breathing in the last of the warm air of the season. He settles his chin against her shoulder and she leans back, kisses him deeply.

‘‘Love you, Molewoman.’’

‘‘Love you, too, Rockstar.’’

**Author's Note:**

> And there we have it.  
> Rockstar and the Molewoman sail into the sunset(fair enough, off their own very stylish penthouse terrace, but potatoe-potatoh ;) )  
> Currently working on the first of the shorter oneshots for this universe, fingers crossed the muse cooperates as it has been thus far :)  
> Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> sidenote:  
> I made an executive decision that Gerri's maiden name is Kellman, otherwise it would mean Roman was taking Baird's last name and that did not sit well with me at all.


End file.
